Code Geass - A Brave New World
by nightbringer24
Summary: (Pretty heavily inspired by Ripped Away) What happens when a young man from our world is transported into the world of Code Geass? Watch as our unfortunate hero is thrust into situations he doesn't fully understand, but tries to make the most of it. R1 Arc in progress.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I am incapable of writing short chapters. I apologise for this in advance. Plus, also I may have gotten Cornelia a little out of character, so for any hard-core Code Geass fans, I apologise for that. That out of the way: enjoy my foray into the world of Code Geass.**

* * *

Routine. It's a simple thing, but many people swear by it.

Ciaran Forsyth was no exception. At twenty-one years old, the young Briton had gotten used to routine. Wake up, use the bathroom, breakfast, do whatever housework needed to be done, lunch, read a bit, then either go to work as a kitchen porter or make dinner, and spend the rest of the evening relaxing.

He was, in the best description, pretty average: five-foot-eight with a slightly stocky build, with dark brown hair, light green eyes and a good smattering of facial hair.

He wasn't unhappy with his life, but nor was he really happy either. His application to the army had fallen through and he'd not gotten anywhere with any other job applications he'd tried. None of his writings had been accepted, and he generally felt a little crappy. But the routine made him feel a bit better about his lot in life.

So it was, on a unremarkable (if overcast) Wednesday afternoon in late June, Ciaran made his way from his house to the nearest bus-stop, his work uniform carried in a dark green satchel. He wore a simple outfit: a pair of dark blue jeans, brown leather boots and a black Iron Maiden t-shirt. His feet carried him down the same path he had trodden many times before, a small path nestled between two houses leading to the main road.

His mind wandering, as it was wont to do on the walk to the bus-stop, he didn't notice it right away. It was only after he took another step that he noticed it: his footsteps echoed.

They never echoed before.

Stopping dead, Ciaran looked around. Gone was the simple red-brick walls and cement path he knew, and in it's stead was something more... grandiose, was the only word he knew that could be used to describe it. Tall, pane glass windows and high vaunted ceilings towered over a marble floors, and nearly every surface was painted opulent shades of purple, red and blue.

Turning several times, his mind racing in confusion, his eyes quickly settled on something: a maid, wearing a stereotypical maids outfit, carrying a silver tray.

"Uhh.." was all Ciaran managed to utter, "Hi?" An attempt at a grin coming to his face.

The maid dropped the tray, which sounded like a hammer striking an anvil, and quickly turned tail, hiking up her skirt as she ran, shrieking " _Intruder!_ "

"Oh, shitting hell..." Ciaran muttered as he turned and began running. He didn't know where he was running to, but it seemed like the reasonable thing to to do given the situation.

He hadn't ran more than a couple hundred yards before a large door built into the wall burst open, through which half a dozen soldiers dressed in dark red uniforms filed out, each carrying a compact sub-machine gun, which was promptly aimed at him.

" _Freeze!_ " One of them commanded.

Ciaran skidded to a halt, which unfortunately resulted in him tripping over his own ankle and landing on his chest with an 'oomph'.

Instantly, the soldiers were on him, pinning him to the floor. One of them pulled off his bag and began rifling through it, while two other's rifled through his pockets, pulling out his phone and wallet. Looking up, Ciaran watched one of the men talk into a hand-held radio.

"General, this is Sergeant Williams. We have apprehended an intruder in the west wing. Your orders?"

The man nodded his head at the other, unheard, voice's words before responding with a "Yes, general."

The sergeant put the radio away. "Pick him up. We're taking him to see the general."

At that, Ciaran felt himself be yanked up quickly, and a little too painfully for his liking, and proceeded to be made to walk down the long corridor under armed guard. After what felt like an eternity, the group stopped before a large set of wooden doors. Turning the handle, the sergeant opened the door before standing at attention.

"General Darlton, we have the intruder sir."

Craning his neck as best he could to see past the sergeant, Ciaran saw several other men in uniform, all gathered around a table, their previous work forgotten as they all stared intently at him. Each wore a maroon jacket, with cream cavalry trousers and black jackboots.

"Thank you, sergeant. I will take it from here." A deep, baritone voice spoke from the group. Ciaran couldn't help but let his eyes widen in shock as a giant of a man stepped forward from the group. He was tall, definitely taller than many others in the room, with a jacket a lighter shade of maroon than the others, but with more gold filigree on it. He had a square face, with light brown hair and black eyes, but it was the prominent scar that rand down from the right side of his forehead to just above the left side of his mouth that drew his attention.

The man stepped closer to Ciaran, his eyes seeming to scrutinize every part of his body before moving to one of the soldiers.

"Did he have anything on him when you apprehended him?" He ordered.

"It's all in here, general." The soldier responded, handing the giant the satchel. Take it, he opened the zip and upended the contents of the back onto the floor. A black double-breasted jacket, black trousers, a leather wallet, mobile phone, an MP3 player and a set of keys fell to the floor.

"Not really what you'd expect a terrorist to have." The general mused quietly to himself, but loud enough for Ciaran to hear.

"Terrorist?" The young man asked, confused. "Wait a minute here, I'm no..."

An open palm collided with the back of his head.

"Shut it!" One of the soldiers barked.

Ignoring the commotion, the large man turned to face another of the similarly dressed officers. "Has the princess been informed?"

"Yes she has, General. And she's on her way as we speak." One of the men replied smartly.

As if on cue, a set of doors on the other side of the room opened, two figures walking in. One was a man, 'lanky' being one of the few words to describe him. He had long black hair tied back in a ponytail, with a pair of spectacles perched on his nose.

The other was a woman. And she definitely stood out. Shorter than the man with the pony tail, and standing round about the same height as Ciaran, she had a large head of dark pink, almost purple, hair which contrasted quite well with her maroon jacket and trousers. A pair of white boots, a white cravat and cloak instantly told Ciaran that this was the princess mentioned.

"Oh, balls..." Ciaran quietly muttered to himself as the woman strode towards him.

The princess came to a halt before the assembled officers, who all bowed at her presence. She paid them no mind however as she locked eyes with Ciaran, who felt like he was shrinking under her hawk-like gaze.

"General Darlton, report." She said finally, turning to face the giant of an officer.

"Your highness, sergeant Williams here apprehended the prisoner in the west wing of palace. We've also gone through what personal affects he had," gesturing at the pile on the floor, "and so far... we don't really know what to make of him, to be honest."

If the woman was displeased, she didn't show as she simply nodded and used one of her feet to rifle through the pile. Bending down she picked up the double-breasted jacket and turned to look at the prisoner.

"Interesting uniform. For a terrorist."

"With all due respect... your highness?" he looked at the general, who only nodded at the honorific, before carrying on "your highness, as I tried to say before, I'm not a terrorist. I don't even know where I am. In fact I should have been in work... ten minutes ago." He looked at his watch. "I think." Thinking quickly, Ciaran took off his watch and tossed it onto the pile.

"What's your name?" The woman asked, ignoring his previous statement.

"My name?"

"Don't play stupid, boy." The man with glasses said coldly. "Answer the princesses question."

"Ciaran. My name is Ciaran." The young man said hastily.

Cornelia waved her hand, palm up in front of her. "Just Ciaran, or do you have a last name?"

"Forsyth. My name is Ciaran Forsyth." He replied, his tone getting more than little panicky. "Okay, look. I have no idea where I am or why I'm here. Now, I will cooperate with you people fully, if it means there's some way of getting home. Is that all right?"

The purple-haired woman let a thin smile come to her face at that. "Glad to hear it. Take him to the interrogation room." She directed the last part of the sentence at the group of guards.

Before he could react, Ciaran felt himself being jerked backwards and made to walk down the same corridor. Before long, they approached an elevator built into a recession in the wall, which one of the guards opened with a key-card. Without much pain, Ciaran was bustled into the elevator with two of the guards, as one of them pressed a button for the basement.

They descended in silence before they reached their stop, Ciaran being shoved roughly out of the elevator into a stark white corridor. They walked in silence, with the occasional shove by the barrel of sub-machine gun as a motivator to keep moving, until they came to a very ominous looking steel door. The soldiers deposited their guns in a recession built into the wall before one of them opened the door with a screech of metal on metal.

"Get in." One of them said, followed by a rough push, as Ciaran was forced into the room. Making his way in, his eyes focused on the furniture: two chairs and a table, as the door was closed with a resounding _clang_.

"Sit." One of the guards said, pointing at the chair, which the young man promptly sat in.

A few seconds later, one of the pair produced a pair of cuffs which tightly bound his wrists.

"Now then," the other guard said, as he pushed the second chair to the side of the room, placing his knuckles on the table. "You and me. We're gonna have a little chat."

Ciaran swallowed at the smile on the man's face, which reminded him far too much of a piranha.

* * *

The barely muffled sound of fist impacting on flesh and bone and grunts and gasps of pain came through the two-way mirror as princess Cornelia watched the interrogation under way.

Although, to call it an 'interrogation' would be stretching the truth at best and an outright lie at worst.

The interrogators, two men of Clovis' old royal guard, were giving what could only be described as near unilateral beat-down on the poor soul in the other room.

It _had_ started as an interrogation: they asked him who he was, why he was here and, most importantly, if he was Zero. Of course the boy answered them and, in the case of the latter question, answered them that, no, he wasn't Zero. That was what made the situation go from bad worse for the stranger.

She had watched them do the basics at first: slap him across the face when he said no, then ask the same question again. It carried on until one of the pair grabbed him on the back of the head and slam his forehead into the table, screaming into his ear that he was lying. Then it just devolved into nothing more than two thugs beating on an innocent person.

Cornelia watched with the same stoicism that she was famed for, but underneath her closed lips, she was grinding her teeth. Her two companions didn't seem to have any trouble showing their distaste. Darlton, standing on her left, glowered at the two men, his fists balled in anger and his large frame seemed to shake with barely constrained rage, while Guilford to her right, closed his eyes and looked away, trying to block out the spectacle playing before them.

They weren't any strangers to forceful interrogations. Lord knows that Cornelia had used them herself in the past, but with her it had more of a surgical precision to it: always leave a glimmer of hope for the poor soul to grasp to, then she'd get some sure answers.

But these men. They just wanted to hurt him. They had stopped asking him questions and were now just punching him repeatedly.

A crash from the room drew the trios attention as they watched the boy be thrown to collide solidly with the two-way mirror. The back of his head connected hard with the glass before he slid slowly down, the top of his head remaining just in view.

"This isn't working," said one of the crimsons clothed guards, "He's not talking."

"Get the cattle-prod." Said the other, matter-of-factly, as he stepped towards the slumped body, a malicious grin starting to form on his face.

That quickly snapped Cornelia into life as her hand darted forward and pressed the intercom button.

"Stop!" she roared through the comlink, "That's enough. Both of you: leave the prisoner alone and get outside. Now!"

The guards stood, stunned at the quick outburst before responding with "Yes, your highness." and quickly leaving the room.

Darlton let out a ragged breath as he slumped forward, resting one of his arms against the glass.

"Damn animals." The scarred general said, as his breathing returned to normal.

"Agreed." Guilford quipped, "I was almost afraid you'd burst through the glass and beat the two men down yourself, general."

Darlton didn't say anything as he pulled himself back to stand at his full height, his body finally overcoming the pent-up rage within

"I think it's safe to say he's not Zero," he finally said, his deep baritone voice filling the small room.

"How do you know that?" Cornelia quickly said, turning to look at the man.

He just shrugged. "Call it a hunch." Darlton replied, a smile twisting the scar on his face.

"Either way, we should check on the prisoner. Make sure he's still alive." Guilford said quickly, to which the other two agreed.

Walking out of the room, Darlton first, followed by Cornelia and Guildford, the two made their way to the door to the interrogation room. Outside stood the two men from Clovis' royal guard. Looking down, Cornelia saw their gloves were flecked with the prisoners blood.

"Your highness, please," began one of the duo, "If you just give us more time, we can..."

"You can what?" Cornelia snapped, interrupting the man, "Kill him? Get a forced confession? Send an innocent man to his death?"

"But your highness, Zero.." began the other, before he too was interrupted.

"I know about Zero. Zero is a murderer, a terrorist and a criminal. I know he could be anyone. But I will find out for myself is this man is the animal who killed my brother. Is that understood?"

"Yes, your highness." The men replied, bowing their heads.

"You two will return to quarters until I tell you otherwise," Cornelia made to enter the door before she stopped, "And wash your bloody uniforms."

After watching the guards briskly walk off, Cornelia placed her hand on the door-handle. Turning, she looked at her knight.

"Guilford, I want to go and get some water and a towel. Also get a medical kit and the injection. I want to make sure this man lives, but also that he answers my questions."

"By your command, my lady" the spectacled knight said, bowing his head before speedily walking off.

Facing the door, Cornelia spoke up again, more softly this time. "Do you really think this man isn't Zero, Darlton?"

There was silence for the briefest of moments before Darlton replied. "I do your highness."

"Then let's go find out." Cornelia said, pushing open the door.

* * *

Entering through the door, Darlton made a sound that could only be described as a snort of anger at the condition of the room. The two chairs in the room were flung aside, and the centre of the small table had a large blood splatter in the middle. The white floors were flecked with blood, and a small amount of blood could be seen on the glass.

Quickly, his eyes settled on the slumped shape of the prisoner, his back up against the wall, his head bowed and his eyes closed. Covering the distance quickly, he gently lifted the boys face up, his fingers settling on his neck, searching for a pulse. A small smile came to his face when he felt a weak, but sure pulse.

"Is he alive?" Cornelia asked.

"It's weak, but it's there." Darlton replied, as he heard the princess pick up and move the fallen chairs into place.

Picking the boy up, Darlton sucked in air through his nose as he saw the damage inflicted. The prisoners nose had been broken several times, several cuts on his lips and the making of serious bruising to his right eye. Blood trickled slowly down from his forehead to his nose. Darlton could only guess what kind of damage he had underneath his black t-shirt.

"Can you hear me?" He asked softly, hoping the boy still was conscious. "Hey. Can you hear me?"

The prisoners eyes opened, although his right could only open partway, and focused on the general.

"P-please," The prisoner muttered quietly, "No-no more. I'm not..."

Darlton quickly shushed the boy. "It's all right. We know." Slowly, we walked the boy forward to sit down at one of the chairs, just as Guilford walked in, carrying a bowl of water and a towel in his left hand and a first-aid kit in his right.

Guilford stopped in his tracks when he saw the boy, his eyes opening in shock, before looking at Cornelia, who was seated opposite the prisoner, on what to do. She responded by nodding her head at the table, on which the knight put the requested items down on.

Leaning forward, Cornelia locked her hands together on the tabletop, speaking softly.

"Mr Forsyth, can you hear me?"

The prisoner nodded slowly.

"Good. Now I want to say this first: no-one here is going to hurt you. My subordinate is going to clean your injuries and then we'll just have a quiet talk."

The prisoner was silent for a moment, his posture still slumped back in the chair. Slowly, the boy nodded his head. In return, Cornelia looked at Darlton who, with a quick nod of his head, took the first aid kit from Guilford and began tending to the prisoner's wounds. Working quickly, the general carefully cleaned the wounds: applying a cold compress to his injured eye, wiping the blood from his head before binding it with a string of gauze, and treating the other facial injuries with a mix of anti-biotic cream and plasters. When he was done, he gave the boy a small squeeze on his shoulder and a quick smile before taking his place next to the wall.

During this, Guilford had wiped down the table as best he could with the towel, managing to get rid of most of the blood. His job finished, he placed the bowl and towel under the table and took his place to the right of Cornelia's back.

"Now, Mr Forsyth, do you think you're able to talk?" The princess asked, resting her arms on the newly cleaned table.

"I am." The stranger replied curtly.

"Right. I'm not going to bother asking you the same questions you were asked before, since we heard your answers to them and they were all the same. So I'm going ask you different questions. Do you understand?"

Another nod, followed by "Yes, ma'am."

"Right. First: do you know where you are?"

The prisoner looked quizzical for a second, his uncovered eye roaming back and forth across the table as if reading some piece of text that only he could see.

"One of the... others in here before mentioned 'Shinjuku'. But... that's in Japan."

"Correct. To an extent." Cornelia said bluntly.

"To an extent? What do you mean, 'to an extent'?" The prisoner asked quickly.

"It means that Japan does not exist as geopolitical entity."

The dark haired prisoner just stared at the princess, his mouth open slightly in confusion before he finally and simply said, "What?"

Cornelia exchange a confused glance with Guilford and Darlton.

"So... you don't know about the One Month War?"

The prisoner shook his head "No."

"Area 11?" Guilford asked.

"No."

"The Holy Britannian Empire?" Asked Darlton.

Another shake of the head.

Sighing, Cornelia leaned forward. "Let's try this another way. Where are you from?"

"Wales." The prisoner answered.

"And that's in Great Britain, correct?" Cornelia asked.

"Yes. The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland."

This time it was Cornelia's turn to look confused, while Darlton and Guilford exchanged a look.

"Uh..." the prisoner spoke up, feeling the tension, "Do you have a world map?"

* * *

It took what felt like the better part of an hour after Guilford had gone to fetch the map, but in the end, with no small help from Cornelia and her companions, Ciaran finally had a general grasp on what had happened.

Although to say he wasn't still confused would be an understatement though, since he currently had his head resting on the table, slowly rolling it from side to side.

"You'll forgive me if this is a bit much to take in, ma'am," Ciaran said, his head resting on it's left side, "but this is... it's a bit of a jolt to the system."

Cornelia couldn't help but nod in response, having listened to the young man telling her about his own time and place.

"If I was in your position, I think I'd have gone mad." She said with a light chuckle as she crossed her long legs. She had shed her more regal cap, which Guilford held draped over one of his forearms. Her attitude had lightened during the last couple of hours from talking to the young man.

"Well, I've found that a little bit of madness isn't really a bad thing." The young man said with a chuckle while he stretched his arms out above his head.

Cornelia gave a small smile which quickly fell from her face, replaced by a stoic mask.

"Mr Forsyth, I thank you for your cooperation."

"And you're welcome to it," the prisoner said, a smile still gracing his face, the injuries and beating forgotten.

"Hmm. But still, as you are probably aware, we've got a terrorist problem. And you are an unknown entity."

Ciaran's back stood rigid, the smile slowly disappearing from his face. The purple-haired woman before him was no longer jovial. Her voice was cold and businesslike.

"Okay?"

"So you understand that unless we truly know whether you are Zero, then you're a danger." She made to stand up, shifting her legs back to their original position. But the sound of metal scraping on tiles and the clatter of a falling metal chair got her attention as, looking up, she saw Ciaran backing away from her, fear plain on his face, like she was a predator.

"Oh, please. Not again. I've given my full cooperation." He said, his voice laden with panic. His eyes shot between the princess and the two others in the room. Guilford had moved forward to replace his lady's cloak, while Darlton took a few tentative steps forward, his hands raised in a placating manner.

"Ciaran, relax," he said calmly, "No-one's going to hurt you here."

It clearly didn't do much for the young man's panic, as he slowly backed himself towards the corner of the room.

"He's right, Mr Forsyth," Cornelia said, as she stood behind the table, her arms crossed over her chest. "The information we want from you won't involve us hurting you."

Ciaran swallowed, fear still plain on his face, but the admission from the princess got him to stop his retreat.

"Do you promise?" He said quickly, his eyes still darting between the three occupants of the room.

"I promise." Cornelia said softly.

"Swear it!" Ciaran barked sharply, his fear replaced by rage.

Guilford took a step forward, a scowl on his face. "How dare you.." He began before a gloved hand across his chest checked his advance.

"I, Princess Cornelia li Britannia, second princess of the Holy Britannian Empire, do hereby swear that no-one in this room will cause you any further harm."

This got Ciaran to relax, lowering his arms to hang before his waist. His posture slumped slightly, but he still kept his eyes locked on the princess.

"All right then." He said simply, walking forward. Cornelia nodded in response as her knight retrieved a slim, black case from his chest pocket and opened it, revealing a single hypodermic needle filled with an opaque liquid.

"This is a needle filled with sodium thiopental," Cornelia said, pulling the needle from it's case and giving the syringe a quick flick. "Do you know what that is?"

The prisoner gave the needle an apprehensive look. "A truth serum, if I remember correctly."

"Indeed. As I said before, I and my second-in-command have both agreed that you are not Zero, but we need to be truly sure."

Darlton took a firm grip on the prisoner's arm, keeping it in place while a piece of cotton wool was applied to the chosen spot on his arm by the princess' bespectacled knight. The princess strode forward, the needle poised in her hands, ready for the injection.

Getting closer, Darlton couldn't help but feel the slight tremble in the young man's arm.

"Scared of needles?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Hate more so than scared," Ciaran replied, swallowing again, "I just don't like how the needle feels."

The general couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as the liquid was emptied from the syringe into the prisoner's veins and his face slowly went slack.

* * *

The rest of the questioning went smoothly. Ciaran was placed back in the chair and asked about all the information that Cornelia knew about Zero: Shinjuku, Clovis, the Orange Incident, anything she could think of on Zero.

All were answered back in the negative.

After several minutes, Ciaran's entire body went slack as sleep took hold of him. Calling in a medical team, the young man's body was placed on a stretcher and covered in a blanket as he slept.

"Where should we take him, your majesty?" One of the medical orderlies asked.

Her arms still crossed, Cornelia drummed the fingers of her right hand on her biceps as she mulled the answers over in her mind.

"Put him in one of the spare rooms in the palace." Her tone brokered no argument as the two orderlies carried the stretcher-borne prisoner out of the room.

"Right in the palace?" Guilford asked, "Are you sure that's the best idea, your highness?"

"Are you questioning my decision, Guilford?" Cornelia asked back, her eyes narrowed before they softened slightly. "You say what happened to him before, Guilford. He may not be Britannian, but he's not some damn Eleven either. I'd hate to think about what would happen to him if we handed him over to the prison."

Guilford nodded in understanding.

"We'll keep him close, just to keep an eye on him for now. Give him time for his injuries to heal, then we'll see how it progresses from there."

Guilford bowed. "As you command, my lady."

Then, Cornelia rounded on Darlton, her cloak twirling behind her as she turned on the giant of a man.

"As for you, general. You vouched for the man, so he's your responsibility. Am I understood?"

Darlton stood ramrod straight, a smile playing over his face.

"As you command, your majesty."


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up slowly, the first thing that Ciaran's mind took in was the bed he was in. It was a four-poster bed, similar to the sort you'd see in an old English country manor, with a red silk blanket over the bed and a large canopy made from the same material. It was soft too, much softer than his own bed.

Looking around with his one good eye, Ciaran took in the detail of the room. 'Gaudy', was probably the best word to describe it. The room had marble, Greek style plinths, plush purple carpets and a huge mirror that, he suspected, hid a large wardrobe behind it.

Just then, the door to the room opened. Looking quickly, Ciaran's eyes settled on the large form of the general he had met yesterday. He was still wearing the same uniform he had on, but now he had a large newspaper nestled in the crook of his arm. The giants eye's settled on the young man, as a warm smile took over his face.

"Well, good morning, Ciaran." The man said, closing the door behind him before walking to stand beside the bed, placing the newspaper on the bedside table.

"Good morning to you too, sir." Ciaran replied, a little bit hesitantly before he rubbed his face to remove the built up sleep. However, doing so caused to wince in pain as his hand brushed over the bruise on his left cheek.

"Still a bit tender, I see." The giant said sympathetically, to which Ciaran nodded. "Well, the doctors had a look at you last night, and it's save to say you'll live."

The young man couldn't help but smile at the generals candour. Gone was the sternness he saw yesterday, replaced by something more... fatherly. Even if he did have the body which could crush you if he wanted to.

"Best news I've heard over the past few days." Ciaran couldn't help but joke as he made to stand out of bed. He stopped himself though, withdrawing his legs back under the covers.

"Ugh... where are my clothes, sir?" Ciaran asked, a little bit sheepishly.

The general crossed his arms as he began. "They are in a secure locker, I'm afraid. After what happened yesterday, myself and the princess decided that it would be best if you were made to blend in. As well as you could with those injuries." The last bit was added quite hastily.

Ciaran nodded his head in understanding. "So where does that leave me?"

As if on cue, three measured knocks sounded on the door.

"Enter." The general called out, and a dark-haired maid walked in, carrying a large white, cardboard, box.

"By the order of the viceroy, sirs." She placed the box on the end of the bed, curtsied and then walked out.

Picking up the box, the general looked inside, and a broad smile came to his face, before placing the box next to Ciaran. Looking inside, Ciaran saw that it was a similar uniform to what the older man wore, except the gold was replaced by a blue fabric.

"I hope everything fits. I'll be waiting outside." The general turned to leave before he paused.

"By the way," he began, turning back, "I don't think we've been properly introduced. General Andreas Darlton." He offered his hand to the young man on the bed.

Ciaran looked at the hand, before smiling and grasping it with his own.

"Ciaran Forsyth."

Darlton nodded at the exchange before pulling his hand back.

"Now hurry up and get changed. The princess wants to have a word with you." And at that, he exited the door, leaving Ciaran to get dressed.

* * *

After a few minutes, the door opened and Ciaran stepped through the door. He was dressed in the immaculate uniform: a deep maroon jacket with blue trim, cream trousers tucked into black jack-boots. The outfit was completed by a pair of white gloves. Standing outside the door, Darlton couldn't help but smile.

"I think the effect is a bit ruined by bandages." Ciaran said, pulling the cuffs of the jacket over the gloves.

Darlton nodded in understanding.

"Before we continue, I think I should give these back to you." Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out Ciaran's watch and MP3 player, holding them in the palm of his large hand. "I took the liberty of setting the watch to the correct time."

Taking them in each hand, the young man stared at them both for a few seconds before putting the music player in his pocket and attaching the watch to his wrist.

"Thank you, sir."

Gesturing down the hall, the two walked down in amicable silence, before Darlton spoke up.

"Did you wear uniforms a lot where you came from?"

Confused, Ciaran looked down at his uniform. "Why? Am I wearing it wrong?"

Darlton chuckled. "No, it's just that you're wearing it better than I thought you would."

Ciaran shrugged. "Well, school uniforms were mandatory until you were eighteen. Plus, I was in the boy scouts for a while. Also, I wanted to get into the army, and I had a pretty big interest in military history before the nineteen-hundreds."

Darlton nodded. "What did you want to do in the army, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Armoured corps. Wanted to be tanker."

Darlton scoffed. "Tanks? You mean those boxes that rolled around on tracks?"

Ciaran just gave the general a hurt look before raising his head in a huff. "For your information, it's a matter of family tradition. Two of my family members have already been in the armoured corps, and I very much intended to carry on that legacy."

Darlton held up his hands defensively. "All right, all right. If it's tradition, I won't fault it. Out of curiosity though, would you still consider it a choice if you're forced to stay here?"

Ciaran mulled the thought over in his head a bit before answering. "Honestly, I would."

Darlton nodded as they continued on in silence again. After a few minutes, they reached a large set of double doors. Turning to face the young man, the general spoke again.

"I think you impressed the princess yesterday with your manner. But here's some tips: always address her as 'your highness' or 'my lady'. Never 'ma'am' like you did yesterday." Darlton raised his hand to give the door three measured knocks. "Other than that, keep your head up, eyes straight and keep calm. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." The young man replied, straightening himself up.

The door opened, the bespectacled man from yesterday holding it open.

"It's general Darlton and our guest, your highness." The man said, turning his head to look at the other side of the room.

"Well, let them in, Guilford." A woman's voice commanded, at which the door opened wider, the man standing to the side to let Ciaran and the general through into the room.

The room they were now standing in was huge and even though Ciaran kept his head looking straight ahead, his vision roamed all over the room. Marble plinths lined the walls, although now they were accompanied by busts and portraits. A large wooden desk occupied a large amount of space at the end of the room, above which a flag was raised: it had a blue field, with a red cross over which was imposed a crowned shield bearing a lion and a snake.

Behind the desk, in a large chair, sat the purple-haired woman from yesterday, the princess, reading over a document file.

"Your highness." Darlton said, bending down to kneel before the desk. Looking quickly, Ciaran copied the same manoeuvre, kneeling before the desk.

No sound save for the sound of rustling paper came from the desk, before the woman spoke.

"Rise, Darlton."

Ciaran however remained kneeling before the princess, his head held low.

"You may stand too, Mr Forsyth." The princess said, her voice managing to suppress a small chuckle.

At that, Ciaran pulled himself up, keeping his head up, and his eye focused on the princess. The woman was leaning forward, her elbows on the desk top and her hands linked under her chin, her eyes intently looking at the young man.

"How are you feeling this morning?" She asked.

"I'm well, your highness," Ciaran answered. "Face is still bit tender though."

The princess nodded. "And the uniform? It fits well, I take it."

"Indeed it does, your highness."

The woman nodded before pushing the chair back and standing up. Reaching down, she took the file she was reading through before and turned it so Ciaran could read it.

"Have a look through that, and tell me what you notice."

Stepping forward, Ciaran opened the file and saw several photos. They were slightly grainy, but the quality was still good enough for him to know that the photos were from a security camera of the hall he found himself in yesterday. Only this one was empty. Leafing through the photos, his eye widened as he looked at one of them: it showed a large white blur that filled the right half of the photo. Then in the next one... well, there he was.

"Bugger me." Ciaran said softly to himself.

"I won't say I'm not impressed," the princess said, crossing her arms over her chest, "Since that is a very good magic trick, if it is magic. Do you know what it could be, Mr Forsyth?"

Ciaran shook his head.

"Your guess is as good as mine, your highness. The only things I can suggest will sound like they belong in the realm of bad science-fiction." He said with a slight chuckle, looking up at the princess.

"I thought as much," the princess began, "Well, considering our situation here, how you got here is of secondary importance, I'm afraid to say. Find Zero comes first."

"About that, your highness. What is the situation regarding me and... Zero?" The young man asked, hesitantly.

"If you're wondering if we, meaning myself and my senior staff, think that you are Zero, then no. We have all agreed that you are not Zero."

Ciaran nodded, letting a smile come to his lips, which seemed to please the princess, as she made her way around the desk to stand near him.

"Now that that's out of the way, I believe that some formal introductions are in order." Darlton chimed in, clapping his hands together. "Ciaran, allow me to introduce to you, Princess Cornelia li Britannia, second princess of the Holy Britannian Empire, viceroy of Area 11 and chief general of His Imperial Majesties armed forces."

At that, Ciaran took a single step back and bowed. "Ciaran Forsyth, at your service, my lady."

Stepping forward, the bespectacled man came to stand beside the princess. "And this is Sir Gilbert Guilford, personal Knight of Princess Cornelia."

"My lord." Ciaran said, bowing his head.

"A pleasure." The knight said.

"Well, introductions out of the way, I'd say it's a good time for breakfast. No?" Cornelia said, looking around.

The three men chimed their agreement as the princess made for the door, the trio following behind.

* * *

The quartet made their way down the hall, Guilford and Cornelia at the front with Ciaran and Darlton bringing up the rear. Every now again, Cornelia would look back at Ciaran, who would look back and give her a small smile which she returned.

They walked in silence until a loud cry reverberated down the corridor.

"SIIIIISSSSTEEER!"

A bright pink blur came barreling down the corridor and collided with Cornelia who, either through habit or natural strength, managed to resist the blur and keep her footing.

"Euphemia, what have I told you about doing that?" The older woman scolded the pink blur, who turned out to be a young girl who, to Ciaran's eyes, seemed to be made entirely out of pink. She was the same height as Ciaran, but her body was more thin. Her long hair was a bright shade of pink that reached down nearly to her waist, and her eyes were a shade of purplish-violet, which was close to the shade of colour as her older sister, marking them out as related.

"I'm sorry, sister, but you disappeared from the room and I thought you'd be in the dining room but you weren't there and... oh." Her tirade subsided as her eyes settled on the bandaged young man, her hands covering her mouth.

"Ah, yes. Mr Forsyth, allow me to introduce to you my younger sister, third princess Euphemia li Britannia, the sub-viceroy of Area 11."

Ciaran bowed from the waist. "My lady."

Euphemia smiled and curtsied in return. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr Forsyth. So you're the guest sister told me about."

Ciaran's mouthed opened and closed in confusion as he looked at the older woman.

"Don't worry. Sister told me that you were innocent of the whole mess and, if it's any conciliation, I'm sorry for the treatment you received."

"Treatme... oh." Ciaran suddenly started. "THAT treatment. Thank you, your highness."

Euphemia simply nodded and begun dragging Cornelia down the corridor she came from, the remaining trio merely smiling at the young woman's antics.

Soon, the group arrived at the dining room, the door opened by a pair of butlers revealing a long wooden table, with several dozen chairs at the ready, along with various teapots, coffee pots, cups and newspapers ready for use.

"I'd have loved to have met the designer of this place," Ciaran mused to himself, looking around at the decor of the room, which was a near exact copy of the other rooms he had been in before.

"It was the choice of my younger brother, Clovis. He was the former viceroy of Area 11." Cornelia said, as she began sitting down at the head of the table. It seemed like she was the only person who heard him.

Ciaran nodded his heads as he took his seat, him and Darlton sitting on Cornelia's right and Euphemia and Guilford on her left.

A butler soon appeared beside the table, seeming to glide in silently.

"Is her majesty ready to order her breakfast?" The man said.

"Since Mr Forsyth is our guest," Euphemia spoke up, "How about we let him order first?"

Ciaran glanced over at Cornelia who merely nodded her head in acceptance.

"All right then," he said, flexing his hands, "I'll have... two poached eggs, two pork sausages without the skin, with a side of a baked beans. Two pieces of white bread toasted, and I do mean toasted, and a glass of orange juice, please."

The butler nodded at the order.

"I'll have the same," Darlton chimed in, "But with three eggs and three sausages."

"I'll just have a bowl of cold cereal with bananas, please." Euphemia chimed in.

"An omelet with a side of bacon for me." Guilford spoke up, placing a napkin on his lap.

"And her majesty?" The butler said, addressing princess Cornelia.

"A mushroom omelet will be fine." she said.

The butler bowed and walked out of the room with the same lack of noise as he had entered.

Soon, Euphemia was talking animatedly with her older sister, while Darlton reached across and began reading one of the various newspapers. Guilford however leaned forward, resting his arms on the table and looking intently at Ciaran.

"So, Mr Forsyth, how do you think you'll be spending your time here in Area 11 after you injuries heal?" The bespectacled knight said.

At this, Darlton looked over his newspaper to look at the man across from him. "Actually, Gil, Ciaran and I had a conversation about that topic earlier."

"Did you now?" The man responded, raising an eyebrow in interest.

"Indeed. It seems that before he came here, Ciaran was intent on joining the armed forces."

This seemed to pique the interest of the table, as the two princesses ceased their conversation to listen to the conversation.

"Is this true, Ciaran?" Cornelia asked, leaning back in the chair.

"It is, your highness." Ciaran replied, nodding his head.

Before the conversation could continue, the same butler from before walked in, announcing that breakfast was ready, as several maids came in carrying trays with plates of food, which they placed before the group. They all ate in silence, the only sound being appreciative murmurs and the clink of cutlery on china.

"So, Ciaran," Cornelia said, having swallowed a forkful of her omelette, "If you did join the forces, which part would you see yourself going into?"

Ciaran paused, his fork, with a piece of sausage on it, an inch or so from his mouth. "Umm... well, I wanted to join the Royal Armoured Corps. Become a tank crewman."

Cornelia nodded. "I'm not sure about the tanks, but we'll see what can happen." Saying that, the two carried on eating their breakfast.

* * *

A few minutes later, with the dishes clean and cleared, the group sat around the table, enjoying their drinks.

"So... what's gonna happen with me now?" Ciaran asked flatly, staring into his glass of orange juice.

Cornelia took a sip from her teacup before placing it on it's saucer.

"Well, your desire to join the armed forces does certainly help. But I'm afraid until your injuries fully heal, you won't be of much use to us."

"Fair enough." Ciaran nodded, taking a drink from his glass.

"Intent for something to do?" Darlton asked, his eyes never leaving the newspaper before him.

"Not a huge fan of sitting around not doing something." The young man replied.

"Well, then," Cornelia said, finishing her drink and standing up from her chair, "Until your injures heal, you'll assist my sister in her role as sub-viceroy. Does that sound fair?"

Ciaran nodded, while Euphemia clapped her hands together. "Oh, that sounds lovely! I want to know more about you."

Darlton gave Ciaran a sly look. "Been in a uniform for less than two hours, and you've already got an easy gig. Lucky sod."

Ciaran merely shrugged as he finished his drink. "My luck seems to have been very subjective as of late."

"Well, that settles it," Euphemia said cheerfully, either ignoring or not having heard the conversation between the two. "Sister, is that all right?"

Cornelia, who was rising from her chair, smiled. "Of course it is. Now, I'm afraid I must be off." At that, both Darlton and Guilford rose from their chairs to follow the princess. On her way out, Cornelia paused by Ciaran's chair. Bending down, she brought her head level with his ear.

"Remember that you're a guest. Don't do anything stupid."

Even though her voice was calm and level, Ciaran felt a slight chill run down his spine. Shaking his head to clear away the unpleasant feeling, the young man stood as Euphemia came to him.

"Ready to go?" She asked, alternating between her toes and heels.

"Lead the way." He gestured with his arm towards the door.

* * *

The trip to Euphemia's office took roughly five minutes, although Ciaran's mind still couldn't comprehend how someone could easily find their way around the place.

"This place is more like a labyrinth than a palace." He mused aloud, looking down each corridor they passed before they came to another set of double doors.

"Yes, it is quite large," The young girl admitted as she opened one of the doors. "My older brother was the designer, and he certainly liked to be... extravagant."

"Hmm... Cornelia did mention him. Clovis, correct?" Ciaran asked as he entered the room, closing the door behind him. The office he was in was similar to Cornelia's, except the desk was a much simpler affair and the plinths and busts were replaced by flags and their flag poles.

"That's right. He was a creative soul." Euphemia said, sitting down. Ciaran noticed that her voice took on a hint of sadness at the mention of her brother.

"You majesty, I don't mean to seem rude but I'm guessing that Clovis is..?"

"Dead. Killed by Zero." Euphemia said, her downcast eyes focusing on the table. Ciaran sucked in air through his teeth, mentally chastising himself.

"I'm sorry. That... that was rude of me." Ciaran said, shaking his head ruefully.

"It's all right." The girl said, her cheer coming back. "You simply weren't told, so it's not your fault."

The duo shared a smile before Ciaran clapped his hands together.

"Right. So what's on the agenda for today then?"

"Well," The princess said, opening a drawer and pulling out a small pile of folders bound together, "Since my sister handles all of the larger and more important issues, that leaves me with all the small details. Public events, museums, what have you."

"Righto." Ciaran said, cracking his knuckles. "What do you want me to do?"

Euphemia unbound the folders and placed the pile at the end of the desk. "I need you to go through these files, check the dates of when they need to be completed and then sort them so that those which need to be done first at the top."

"As you command." The young man said, bowing his head which brought a smile to the princess' face. Taking off his gloves, which he placed on the desk top, he opened the first file and began reading as Euphemia took out another set of files and began doing the same.

* * *

"And... done." Euphemia said, setting the last file onto her pile. "Are you finished?"

Ciaran nodded. "Checked, double checked and all bound, ready for... well whatever you do with these."

Euphemia giggled as she checked the clock on the desk. "And it's only 11 o'clock."

"Really?" Ciaran asked, checking his own watch. "That certainly was fast. Now what do we do?"

The pink girl placed a finger on her chin as began thinking, before she finally spoke.

"Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to know more about yourself." She said, bringing her chair around to sit closer to the man.

Ciaran drummed his fingers on the desk top, before he shrugged. "All right then. What would you like to know?"

Euphemia crossed her legs as she sat down on the chair. "Well... what did you do before you came here?"

"Not much to say really," Ciaran answered, leaning back in his chair, crossing his fingers. "I was a kitchen-porter in a hotel near where I lived. I regretfully didn't have the right grades to get into a university, and my application to the army fell through."

The girl nodded as he finished. "What about your parents? What did they do?"

"My dad was a police officer and my mum was a teaching assistant."

Euphemia nodded, in rapt attention at the man before her. Ciaran noticed.

"I'm not really all that interesting, princess."

"Now that's not true!" Euphemia said, looking slightly offended at the remark. "Like... what about your hobbies? Certainly you had some interesting ones."

The young man chuckled. "All right then. You asked. Well, firstly: I'm an archer. Been doing that since I was thirteen. I've been into tabletop war-gaming since I was... ten? Eleven? Ten or eleven." He waved his hand at the confused memory. "Uh, what else. Well, those are the interesting ones. I've written a few things, mainly for the war-gaming thing, and also a lot of reading on military and historical fiction."

"An author, eh?" Euphemia asked, her interest piqued. "Did you get anything published."

Ciaran shook his head. "'fraid not. A lot of the stuff I've written is either sitting on my hard-drive on my laptop or on the internet." At that, the man lowered his head, looking down at his hand as he began playing with his thumbs.

Reaching over, Euphemia placed a small hand on top of his hands. Looking up, Ciaran was treated to a small smile from the girl.

"I can't imagine what must be going through your mind right now," The princess said in a soft voice, "But don't feel like you have to go through this alone. Okay?"

Giving a small smile of his own, Ciaran placed one of his hands over hers, giving it a soft squeeze.

"Thank you, Euphemia."

The smile on her face broadened, just as three knocks sounded from the door.

"Come in." Euphemia said, letting go of Ciaran's hands as she pushed her chair back to it's original position.

The door opened, revealing the formidable form of general Darlton.

"Ah, Darlton." The princess said gleefully. "What brings you here?"

"Well, princess," Darlton said, his long legs carrying him towards the other end of the room, "The viceroy has given me a bit of free time, and so I decided to give our young friend here a bit of a treat." The last bit of the sentence was reinforced by the general placing a large hand on Ciaran's shoulder.

"Ooh." Euphemia said, intrigued by the idea. "Can I come along?"

"Of course." Darlton nodded, smiling at the girl's enthusiasm.

Looking at this watch again, Ciaran merely shrugged. "Be a good way to kill time until lunch." At that, he rose from his chair, collecting his gloves and putting them on. At that, the trio made their way out of the room, Darlton closing the door behind them.

* * *

 **AN: And that's chapter 2 up. Wanted to get this done before I had to leave for work. I'm not gonna lie that the hardest thing to write of this whole chapter was trying to figure out what everyone would have for breakfast. Hehe.**

 **One of you, Demons Anarchy of Pride, that Darlton had taken a liking to the main character. I chose to do that because it is mentioned in his character material (and the episodes themselves) that Darlton adopted several boys as his sons. The Glaston Knights. As such, I kind of went with the idea that, even though he's a stern and serious military man, beneath the rough exterior is a gentle soul. Plus, he kind of looks like my granddad. Heh.**

 **So yeah. Read, review, whatever you want. But most of all, enjoy. c:**


	3. Chapter 3

The hum of the descending elevator, couple with the musical humming from princess Euphemia, was the only sound filled the metal box as the trio made their way down to the lower levels of the Viceroy's Palace.

"So," The pink girl asked, "What's the surprise?"

The scarred general merely shook his head. "Princess, you know that it wouldn't be a surprise if I told you."

Ciaran chuckled as Euphemia pulled off an overly aggressive pout at the general's reply.

"Oh, by the way," Darlton said, reaching into a pocket, "The Viceroy told me to give you these."

Withdrawing his hand, he held up four bits of metal: two pairs of pips in the shape of a stylized star.

"Myself and the Viceroy agreed that it's a good rank to start with," the general said, attaching the first pair to the right shoulder of Ciaran's jacket. "Plus, it means we can keep a better eye on you and no-one will ask questions."

The young man stared at the pips on his shoulder for a moment before gingerly taking the second pair.

"T-thank you, sir." He looked at the pair of pips which rested in the palm of his hand.

"I take it you're not excited?" Euphemia asked, taking the metal adornments and attaching them his other shoulder.

"N-no, I'm happy. I really am." Ciaran said, looking quickly at the pink princess. "It's just... I always thought I'd get to tell my parents about it." His eyes were beginning to water.

The two Britannians exchanged a look before Euphemia wrapped her arms around the young man's neck, pulling him into a hug.

"Well, I guess we'll be your family then." The young woman said, a large smile on her face. Looking at her, Ciaran was sure her eyes seemed to shine.

Wiping his eye as best he could to avoid the bruise, Ciaran chuckled again.

"Now that's not a bad plan, Euphemia."

The pink girl grinned and gave Ciaran a tighter hug, accidentally pushing her head into Ciaran's bruised left cheek, causing him to yelp out in pain.

The exchange made Darlton laugh, the deep sound filling the box as they descended to their destination.

* * *

The elevator door opened with a 'ding' as the trio made their way out of the door, Ciaran gingerly rubbing his cheek as he followed Darlton and Euphemia down the corridor before them. Euphemia walked forward with downcast eyes while Darlton merely smiled.

"I'll admit something," Ciaran said, removing his hand from his cheek, "I always wondered what it would be like to have a younger sister. And now I think I was right."

This did not help Euphemia's mood as her head sunk lower. Seeing that, Ciaran reached forward and placed a hand on her head. This caused the girl to raise her head and look at him.

"Hey. I never said it was a bad thing." He coupled that with a wide smile, which in turn made the young girl smile brightly.

"When you two are quite finished," Darlton called out, standing beside a metal door built into the wall.

Admonished, the duo picked up their pace as Darlton punched in a code followed by the door opening with a pneumatic _hiss_. On the side, the door revealed a large hangar of bustling men in drab dungarees and overalls scurrying across the floor or gangways, carrying a myriad of tools or cables as they tended to a variety of vehicles, some squat armoured vehicles.

But the vehicles that caught Ciaran's eyes were tall, bipedal mechs, standing nearly five metres tall. It's squared armour was painted a deep purple colour, with the chest and legs painted black. It's head was nearly spherical with a pair of 'horns' that sprouted from the back.

"What. Is that?" Ciaran asked, his eye nearly bugging out of it's socket.

"That, is a Humanoid Autonomous Armoured Knight, or the Knightmare Frame," Darlton gave the answer, sound pleased at the young man's awe. "That particular unit is one of the latest models. A Sutherland."

The trio approached one of the closest units, the engineers parting aside as they advanced. Ciaran ducked underneath the knightmare's crotch, then ascending the ladder to the rear of the units torso. Looking over and under it, wonder was plain on his face as he searched for a way to open it up.

"Can I have a look inside?" He asked, the question not directed at anyone in particular. Darlton smiled then nodded at a nearby technician.

"You might want to stand back, Ciaran." Darlton cautioned. As the young man stood back, the technician activated an override command and the rear of the cockpit slid back, revealing the interior of the machine. Leaning forward over the chair, Ciaran peered at the myriad of screens, controls and other controls.

"It's not as complicated as you think," the general said as he climbed up to stand the other side of the operator's chair, peering into the cockpit too.

"You'll forgive me if I say I don't believe you." Ciaran said with a chuckle. "Is this what replaced tanks?"

The general nodded. "Still want to join the armoured corps?"

"If anything else," Ciaran said, raising himself out of the cockpit, "This makes me want to join it more."

"Are you two finished?" Euphemia called out from below, her hands on her hips. "It's time for lunch, you know."

"Sorry, your highness."

"Sorry, Euphemia."

The uniformed pair apologised, then climbed down from the gangplank to join the princess, as the tech crews went back to work on the Sutherland.

* * *

After that, the following days fell into an easy semblance of order. Ciaran spent much of his time alternating between working with Euphemia in her duties as sub-viceroy and being tutored by Darlton on how to operate the knightmare frame. The scarred general was correct in his claim that operating a knightmare was a lot less complicated then it first seemed. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to try and actually operate a knightmare until he had regained full use of his depth perception. Ciaran always ate his meals in company, either with the group of four or, as was more common, Euphemia and Darlton. The trio always had something to discuss, usually about Ciaran's previous life or some aspect of Britannian life.

His free time, however, was spent in the palace's extensive library looking through various texts. He never looked at anything in particular, switching from history books to poetry to whatever else.

It was in one of those times that Guilford found him sitting out on the balcony, Ciaran sitting at one of the small tables, a small pile of history texts on the surface, accompanied by an empty glass and a small writing pad and pen.

Walking closer, Guilford saw that the bandages on his forehead had been removed, along with the appliances to help mend his broken nose. The bandage over his right eye had been replaced by a slightly less noticeable eye-patch and the bruising on his face had certainly gone down. His facial hair however had grown a bit more wild, nearly becoming a full beard, if it stopped a bit short.

"Enjoying yourself?" Guilford asked as he circled the table to stand in front of him. Ciaran seemed to have been pretty engrossed in his books, for he nearly jumped at the knight's voice.

"Ah, lord Guilford. Good day to you." He said, rising out of the chair.

Guilford waved him down as he pulled a chair to sit with him.

"The Viceroy let you of your leash, it seems?" The young man joked, pulling a cocky smile at the comment. Guilford only chuckled in reply, before reaching over and lifting up the notepad to read it.

At the top, in large block letters read the words:

 **Similarities between my world and new**

"What's this about, if I may ask?"

"If I'm honest,," Ciaran said, taking the pad back, "I'm not fully sure. I came in here one day and I picked up a copy of Shakespeare and I thought to myself 'Oh, they've got him here too'. So I started pouring through several books to see what else you had and... it kind of went from there." He reinforced the last part of his sentence by striking the pad with his pen.

Guilford nodded. "Understandable. The human mind seeks similarities in many things in life. And I imagine with your circumstances, it would be taken to quite an extreme."

Ciaran nodded in understanding. "Indeed. And I'll be honest," the young man said, leaning back in his chair, interlocking his fingers. "I think I might as well stop. The similarities are enough to make the experience more than bearable. Although the company doesn't hurt."

Guilford said nothing, giving a small chuckle in reply. Admittedly, he hadn't had many interactions with the young man, being that his duties as the Viceroy's aide and personal knight kept him preoccupied, but he would often find Ciaran and Princess Euphemia chatting amicably during their time together or find him in rapt attention when general Darlton was giving a lecture on the operation of a Sutherland. Even though he was still admittedly a little wary of the man, if the princesses and the general could stand him, then so could he.

"Well, I'd love to stay and carry on chatting," Ciaran said, he looked at his watch before rising from his chair, "Since we really don't know that much about each other, my lord, but I'm afraid I must get back to work."

"Of course, Mr Forsyth." Guilford replied, standing too as the young man made his way to the exit of the library. Soon, a maid entered and began clearing the table of books.

"My lord," the young woman asked, "what should I do with this?"

Looking down, Guilford saw what she was referring to: the pad and pen held in a white gloved hand.

"I'll take that." He said, taking the pad from her hands before he left the library. Turning the pad over and over in his hands, curiosity got the better of him as he opened the pad to see what the young man had written.

The first page however startled him. Instead of long lists of various things, the page was blank, save for one single line written in clear, black block letters:

 **NEVER FORGET INVICTUS**

Guilford stopped walking, his mind focusing on the page as he read the line over and over again, trying his best to make any sense of the sentence.

The ringing tone of his phone pulled him back to the real world as he answered the personal line to princess Cornelia.

* * *

"Well now," the smiling doctor said, "It's nearly two weeks. Let's take a look at that eye."

Ciaran was sitting in his personal room on the bed, stripped down to his t-shirt and trousers, princess Cornelia standing a ways to the side of the bed as the princesses personal doctor sat in front of him, a small collection of small medical sitting next to him on the floor. The doctor was a nondescript man in his late fifties, with a balding head and a puffy face, with a pair of half-moon glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

"You don't really need to be here, your highness." Ciaran said, turning to look at the purple-haired woman.

"I just want to make sure everything is okay." Cornelia simply stated. Ciaran quickly turned to face the doctor as the man produced a small bottle of disinfectant and a cotton ball.

Lifting the patch, the doctor gave an appreciative nod. "Looks like my estimate was right, your highness," The doctor said, smiling at the young man on the bed as he put the bottle and cotton ball away. "No further treatment is required."

Walking over, Cornelia gave a small smile at the sight before her. Where once was a deep purple and black bruise had now become the same pink colour as the rest of his skin.

"If that will be all, your highness?" the doctor started, before the princess simply gave a shake of her head. The man bowed before bending down to retrieve his bag, then he left the two in silence.

"Time really is a good healer." Cornelia said, as she watched the young man replace his jacket.

"Indeed." The young man said simply.

The pair stood in silence for a few moments before princess Cornelia spoke up again. "Since you're eye has mended, then Darlton will begin your combat training in two days time."

At that, the older woman reached into one of her pockets and pulled a thick, black case and placed it on the bed. Reaching over, Ciaran opened the case to reveal an electric razor. The young man couldn't help but chuckle a little.

"I didn't say anything about your looks up to now, but since your injuries have healed, you're to present yourself as a member of my Royal Guard."

The princess stood silently as Ciaran straightened his back, then bowed.

"Yes, your highness."

* * *

Darlton's booming laugh echoed down the hall as he and Ciaran made their way down one of the palace's many hallways. Ciaran, for his part, simply kept his head down, his hand covering his head as he shook it from side to side.

"Please stop, general." The young man said quietly.

The general kept laughing, seeming to ignore the man's comment. "I had no idea you had such a case of baby-face!" Darlton roared, slapping the young man between his shoulder blades with enough force to knock Ciaran off his stride. This caused Ciaran to turn and glare at the general, which caused the general's laughing fit to double in severity.

The general was telling the truth though, much to Ciaran's disdain. Without his facial hair, the man had a serious case of baby-face, making him appear much younger then he was.

"Do you think I can convince the princess to let me grow it out? Just a little bit?" The young Briton said hopefully, rubbing his chin to try and reinforce his point.

Laughing less harshly now, Darlton wiped a tear from his eye.

"He-he. Maybe, son. Maybe." The older man then coughed as he cleared his throat. "But in all seriousness, are you ready for this?"

Puffing out his chest, Ciaran nodded. "I am sir."

Darlton smiled broadly at the young man, putting a large hand on his shoulder. The smile faded as the generals' face took on a serious look.

"So have you ever fired a gun before?"

Ciaran shook his head. "Only single-shot air-rifles and some gas-powered rifles when I did a regimental insight course with the British army."

Darlton nodded as the duo came to a large metal door with the words 'warning' written in large yellow letters with a large red bulb placed next to the door, which was currently unlit. Punching in a set of numbers into a keypad, the door slid to the side revealing a large metal room. The room was split with five avenues. Th closest ends of the avenues were made into booths, with tall metal walls dividing each booth, while at the furthest end stood five targets standing before a bullet riddled wall.

Walking into a room, Darlton opened a locker and pulled a rifle out of it's alcove. It was rectangular, built in the bullpup configuration, with the gun-sight and the carrying handle built as one. Opening the guns chamber, the general let it snap closed before letting it sit in his hands.

"This, is the M15 Assault Rifle, standard issue to all Britannian military personnel. It can fire in the automatic and semi-automatic fire modes and fires a 5.56 caseless round."

"Caseless?" The younger man asked, surprised by the concept.

"Yep. Caseless." The general said with a smug smile, before tossing the rifle to the person in front of him. "Catch!" He said just as quickly as he threw the gun.

The young man caught the rifle smoothly, before lightly tossing the gun into the air before catching it again. "It's lighter than I thought."

Darlton nodded appreciatively as he pulled some magazines out of the gun cabinet. They were long, rectangular cases with a small turntable-like addition at one end of it.

"These things carry thirty to forty rounds each, so just to be sure, I'll give you four magazines to start with." Darlton said, drawing a rifle of his own from the locker, placing a magazine of his own into the gun.

* * *

For the next hour and a half, Darlton took Ciaran through the various firearms used in Britannia. Pistols, submachine guns and rifles, Darlton taught the young man how to operate, fire and clean each one.

"It appears that you're a bit of a natural, Ciaran." Darlton said as he put his rifle away in the locker.

"I'm surprised myself, sir," Ciaran replied, as he fixed his new belt around his waist, making sure the holster was in it's right place. It had been something the general insisted on after the young man had proved his skill with a pistol. "Although I'll be honest... these guns are a lot more underpowered than I expected."

The general simply hmm-ed in response.

"Ciaran," he said flatly, "I want to be sure about this: are you sure you want to carry on with this? Becoming a soldier, I mean." The general fixed his eyes on Ciaran.

Ciaran kept his eyes focused on the floor, his hands still on his holster. Slowly, he raised his head and met the general's gaze.

"I am sir," the young man said matter-of-factly, "I know I wouldn't be able to fit in with the rest of Britannian society. I think the military is the only way I can do something with myself in this place."

Darlton nodded.

"Plus," Ciaran continued, "I believe that I owe you and princess Cornelia for saving for my life when I first came here. And I don't think a simple 'thank you' will cover it." A smile graced the young man's face at the last part.

The scarred general ran a hand through his hair at the comment, giving a short but loud chuckle.

"Yeah, I guess you do. I guess you do," the general conceded, "But don't you dare get yourself hurt in the process, understand me?"

Ciaran stood smartly at attention, his left foot stamping next to his right as he saluted smartly.

"Sir, yes, sir!"

* * *

 **AN: Okay, this ended up being a shorter chapter then I originally hoped for. Admittedly, I don't think I could have extended this chapter without messing up the flow of what I had planned for later chapters. So if you wanted something longer, I apologise.**

 **Next chapter's gonna be where the big stuff happens, and also the introduction of some new faces. So... enjoy. c:**

 **ETA: A note on the rifle: the Code Geass wiki for small arms says that nearly ALL of the firearms in the Code Geass universe do not use gunpowder as a ballistic propellant, they use an electromagnetic pulse. Now, I wasn't really sure if that would effect the actual weight of the gun or not so I just went with the standard "It's lighter than I thought" cliche. Plus the M15 designation is just something I came up with on the spot.**


	4. Chapter 4

Standing before the large doors to the Viceroy's office, Ciaran gave his uniform a last minute pat down, checking for anything wrong. Under his left arm, was a small stack of papers given to him by Euphemia for her sister to sign.

"I know it's a bit much to ask," the pink princess had said apologetically, "But I need to sort these forms out. Could you run these up to my sister? Please?"

The look that Euphemia gave him could have made a statue melt it was so cute. So he had no choice but to agree to the request. Thankfully, he'd spent enough time going to the head office to know where it was.

Reaching up, he gave the door before him three knocks before taking a step back. In less than a second, the door opened, revealing the ever-present Guilford.

"It's lieutenant Forsyth, your highness." Guilford said, looking into the room, answering an unheard question. The use of his new rank made Ciaran raise an eyebrow though.

"Well, send him in, Guilford." The princess called out, Guilford taking a step back as he opened the door wider.

Walking inside, even with the familiar sight of Cornelia sitting behind her desk, Ciaran's eyes fell upon the person sitting in front of the desk. He was tall and lean, older than either Ciaran or the princess, with sandy-brown hair tied into a pony-tail, but with a large... 'crest' was probably the only word to describe what it was on the front. He wore a black waistcoat and trousers with a dark red shirt underneath.

"Am I interrupting something, your highness?" Ciaran asked, looking at the princess, "I can always come back later."

"No, it's fine," Cornelia said, waving a hand dismissively, "Actually, it's a good thing you're here. Lieutenant Forsyth, this is Mr Diethard Ried, the head reporter of Hi-TV and prince Clovis' former head of media. Mr Ried, this is lieutenant Forsyth, one of the newest members of my royal guard."

Standing up, Diethard offered his hand which Ciaran took after placing the papers onto the desk.

"A pleasure, Mr Ried."

"Likewise, lieutenant," the reporter said amicably, "I hope you don't mind, but you're a bit young for a lieutenant, aren't you?"

"He's proven himself as a capable officer and aide," Cornelia answered, fixing the older man with a look that simply said 'don't question me', "That's more than enough for me."

"As you say, your highness." Diethard acquiesced, "Although is it all right to continue this conversation in front of a junior officer?"

"As I was saying before," The princess said, ignoring Diethard's comment, "I want the start of the operation to be broadcast at midday in two days time, with the announcement to be given two hours before the operation begins. I assume this can easily be arranged?"

"It can, your highness. But I'm not sure whether it would be such a good idea to give this-" Diethard said, before Cornelia cut him off.

"Mr Ried. You're job in this is simple. Now I will ask one more time: can this be arranged?"

Diethard stayed silent for a brief moment before bowing. "Of course, you're majesty."

"Good. You are dismissed, Mr Ried." The princess said, reaching over and pulling Ciaran's papers closer, as the reporter exited the room.

"Umm... operation, your highness?" Ciaran asked, rightly confused.

"Hmm," Cornelia said, looking up from the papers, before the realization hit her. "Oh, so Darlton hasn't told you yet?"

The young man shook his head. "No."

"Well, I guess you should know. We will be launching an operation against the forces of the terrorist group known as the Yamato Alliance in the Saitama ghetto. It will be an attempt to draw out Zero."

Ciaran nodded in understanding. "Two birds with one stone, then?"

"Indeed." Cornelia replied, giving the junior officer a small smile, before looking through the stack of paper

"Well, I shall leave you to finalizing the plan then. I think your younger sister might need me." Ciaran said, bowing slightly as he prepared to leave. Halfway down the room, he stopped and turned to face the princess.

"Your highness?" Cornelia raised her head. "Did you mean it before? That you considered me a 'capable officer and aide'?"

The princess nodded. "My sister seems to think so, so I won't argue with her."

At that, Ciaran smiled and continued out of the room.

* * *

The large G-1 base rumbled slowly down the raised avenue, the purple base's movement making the very earth shake as it advanced slowly. Inside it however, Ciaran was still in awe at the large vehicle, even though outwardly he didn't show it.

"Did you never have anything like this in your world?" Darlton asked quietly, leaning down to get closer to the young man.

"No, sir," Ciaran replied. "We could never figure out a way to work out the power to weight to fuel ratio. The Germans tried it in the nineteen-forties, but it didn't work out well."

Darlton nodded in understanding, pulling himself back up to his full height. The interior of the bridge of the G-1 showed a large map of the Saitama ghetto, ringed with a red circle and small blue icons showing the various forces engaged in the operation moving towards their positions

"How long until we reach our destination?" Princess Cornelia asked, sitting in the command chair at the back of the control bridge, Guilford's ever-present form standing beside her.

"ETA fifteen minutes, your highness." Answered a member of her royal guard. Ciaran couldn't but fidget with his collar. Even though he had been told the outline of the plan, he hadn't been included on the actual details of the plan proper. So it made sense for him to be nervous.

"This is your first time in combat, Ciaran," Darlton said softly, keeping his voice low so that only the young man could hear him. "It's all right to feel nervous." The general gave the man a small smile which the young man returned.

A few tense minutes passed as the mobile base reached it's destination, although it felt like hours to the young man, as he watched the splendour and cleanliness of the Tokyo Settlement being replaced by the grime and desolation of the Saitama Ghetto. Ciaran couldn't help but suck in air through his teeth at what he saw: once proud skyscrapers stood like carcasses of dead animals. Some stood tall and proud, while others were splintered. The broken buildings rested against others, seeming to be ready to collapse at any moment.

In the following moments, Ciaran watched as the Britannian forces deployed on the map display, the small blue icons spreading out to form a solid ring around the ghetto.

Soon, the bridge became a hive of activity as the officers of Cornelia's royal guard began giving orders, both to each other and over radios to troops on the ground. General Darlton's voice was clear over the hubbub, but Ciaran admittedly paid it little mind as he focused all of his attention on the display screens.

Cornelia's voice drew him back to the real world.

"What will be the effect on production?"

"Primary sector output should decrease by zero-point-two percent."

"Within expectations, you mean. All right." Cornelia then focused her attention on three men dressed in grey uniforms of Clovis' military officer corps, the princess asking them whether the situation was similar to what occurred at Shinjuku.

At the word that it was from one of the officers, a smile came to the princess' face that admittedly sent a chill of fear down Ciaran's spine. He had heard about Shinjuku from Euphemia. About it being nothing more than a unilateral massacre of the Japanese inhabitants.

"Your high-" He began, but looking at the princess, his eyes connected with Guilford's, who merely shook his head. Looking over at Darlton, who was coordinating the soldiers, Ciaran saw that he was without friends in this instance. He simply turned round to focus on the view screen, none of the other officers present having noticed his actions.

After a few moments, the Britannian forces launched their attack. He couldn't see anything of the attack in the G-1 but he could hear what was going on. It wasn't anything as dramatic as the inhabitants screaming as they were killed. Not that he doubted it happened. The soldiers simply gave reports such as "Suppression of Area Four complete. Eighth and Eleventh Mechanized companies are sweeping north and south in a pincer movement."

It made Ciaran grimace. Either in anger or disgust, even he didn't know.

Soon however, the situation turned in a complete 180 degree turn. Icons representing Sutherlands began being replaced by 'Lost' icons, the pilots either ejecting as the first counter attacks from the Yamato Alliance. First it was in pairs, before becoming full squads as they were caught in ambushes and crossfires, with captured Sutherlands. The biggest shock came as the suspension bridge into the ghetto was destroyed in, Ciaran had to admit, a fairly impressive explosion.

"That's enough." Cornelia said evenly. "Order all troops to fall back. Further damage and casualties serve no point."

Ciaran had to agree, even as the grey uniformed officers began to protest. As far as counterinsurgency operations went, this one was going pretty bad. Unless...

"Shall we go then, Guilford, my knight?" The purple-haired woman asked her knight.

The bespectacled man bowed. "It is my pleasure to serve and obey you, my lady."

At that moment, something gripped Ciaran. An odd desire.

"Your highness," the young man said, surprising the other staff members and causing Guilford to stop his exit from the room. "Permission to go out into the field, my lady."

A small, nervous chuckle sounded from some of the assembled officers. "Eager to get into the field, lad?" Someone said, Ciaran paying no attention to the officer as his gaze remained on the princess.

For her part, Cornelia ignored the officers before nodding her assent. "Very well then, lieutenant. Take a suit of armour and a weapon from the armoury, then proceed at your own discretion."

"As you command, your highness." Ciaran simply replied, bowing, before striding from the room. If he had turned around, he would have noticed that both Cornelia and Darlton shared a small, worried look before continuing their work.

* * *

Stepping out of a doorway in the G-1's side, Ciaran stood in the late afternoon sun. Over his maroon uniform, he wore the standard grey ballistic armour of the Britannian army, an M15 slung over his right shoulder as he fixed a grey field-cap to his head. He had refused the helmet, saying that he was far enough from the front to not need it.

Making his way towards the front of the mobile base, a large _thunk_ drew his attention as he saw Guilford's knightmare, a deep purple Gloucester with a cape, landed on the road in front of the G-1 before speeding off, followed by several other Gloucesters. Ciaran raised his fist in salute, either unsure or not caring if Cornelia's knight saw the gesture as he and his unit sped down the road.

Humming a tune to himself, Ciaran made his way down the avenue before the G-1, managing to weave through the throngs of soldiers and Sutherlands that stood milling around, unsure of what to do. Hell, even Ciaran didn't know what to do. Spying a nearby group of four soldiers sitting on crates and sharing a smoke, he decided to give his new rank some exercise.

"Hey, you four!" He barked, pointing at the group, who quickly stood up to attention. "If you've got nothing better to do, then go and see if the engineers or medics need any assistance. Move it!"

The group responded with a sharp salute and a "Yes sir!" before taking off at speed. Ciaran couldn't help but smile at what he did before continuing down his unplanned route.

Before long, Guilford's Gloucester and his fellow knights returned. Then, at an unheard signal, the Sutherlands present began arranging themselves in straight ranks, two columns either side of the road. Ciaran managed to avoid getting ran over as he moved to stand near a nearby APC sitting in the shadow of a ruined building. Soon Cornelia's booming voice came over an external loudspeaker.

"To all knightmare pilots, open your hatches and let me see your faces."

At her command, the hatches of the present Sutherlands began opening one by one, their pilots stepping into the open air. Ciaran watched as Guilford's Gloucester began moving down the line, the 'head' of the mech looking at each unit and it's pilot as it made it's way down the line.

Soon, the purple machine stopped before one Sutherland that hadn't opened it's hatch. Ciaran cursed the fact that his radio couldn't get a signal of the conversation that was going on between the two pilots, but the fact that several soldiers began forming a cordon around the machine made Ciaran suspicious as he unlimbered his own rifle.

"Zero has been sighted!"

The call snapped everyone out of what they were doing, soldiers milling around in confusion at the call, unsure of where the terrorist had been sighted.

"Lieutenant! Behind you!" A soldier in front of Ciaran called out, pointing to the ruin behind him. Spinning around, bringing his rifle up at the same time, Ciaran's eyes widened in shock at the sight before him. Standing on top of the crumbling wall, with nary a care in the world, stood Zero himself. He was wearing a deep purple suit, with an elaborate black cloak that fluttered in the wind. Obscuring his face was a featureless mask with a deep-blue tinted plate that covered the whole of his face.

Many of the soldiers present stood in stunned silence. Suddenly, the nearest soldiers begun firing their rifles, Ciaran adding his own fire into the mix. Instead of ducking from the fire, Zero simply spread his arms wide then, to everyone's surprise, fell backwards off the building.

"No you don't!" Ciaran called out, running forward to the ruin, ignoring the calls of the soldiers behind him. Running up a short slope, Ciaran aimed his gun through the remains of a wall into a dark hole. Scanning the darkness, he lowered his rifle.

"He's gone!" He called back, as a trio of soldiers climbed up the slope to stand near him before he made his way down the slope. The commotion energized the soldiers as they began scanning the area for the terrorist.

Deciding that there was little else he could to do help, Ciaran made his way back to the G-1, taking off his hat to run his hands through his hair, before replacing the hat on his head as he climbed into the mobile base.

* * *

Later that night, Euphemia lay awake in her bed. After her sister returned from the Saitama ghetto, Cornelia had made lieutenant Forsyth assist her in some paper work after she had made the young man fill out an after action report.

She thought it would be good to have the man with her again. She and him had been having pleasant conversations over the last few weeks. But now... now she was worried. Ciaran's pleasant manner was now more subdued. When she tried to talk to her, he took his time answering and it always came in short, simple statements. Her attempts at goading an answer out of him were met with further silence.

Even dinner was a frosty affair. The group of five sat down for dinner again, in the same manner they did they first time they ate as a group with Ciaran present. But this time, conversation was non-existent, each person simply eating their meal in silence. When his dinner was finished, Ciaran excused himself, citing a need to lie down. Euphemia had not seen her friend since.

Looking at her bedside clock, she read the time for probably the sixth time that night.

11:50pm

Sitting up in her bed, Euphemia reached over and switch the bedside lamp on. Climbing out of her bed, she took her bed-robe off a chair and exited her room. She didn't do it often, but she enjoyed walking around barefooted around the palace. The carpets put down by Clovis always felt so nice against the soles of her feet.

Admittedly, she wasn't really sure what to do. She knew she couldn't just go to Ciaran's room. It wouldn't be right, even if she wasn't seen. A passing maid curtsied as she walked past the princess.

"Have you seen lieutenant Forsyth?" The princess asked quickly. When the maid gave a confused look, she began describing the young man, hoping that would help her memory. Luckily, that jogged the maid's memory, as she said that she saw a man fitting that description enter into the palace's gym some time three hours ago.

Thanking the maid, Euphemia walked down the corridor to the gym, picking up her speed when she knew she couldn't be seen by anyone.

The maid was correct, as small beams of light emanated from the door to the gym. Making her way closer, she could hear certain sounds mixed together: the sounds of heavy impacts, grunts of exertion and the sound of music, fast paced and loud.

…. _ **so close near enough to fight**_

 _ **When a Russian gets me in his sights**_

 _ **He pulls the trigger and I feel the blow**_

 _ **A burst of rounds take my horse below.**_

Opening the door, Euphemia couldn't help but pause and stare at the sight before her. Ciaran was stripped to his waist save for a t-shirt, his legs still wearing trousers of his uniform, his arms bare and his hands wrapped in bandages. Sweat dripped off his body as lay blow after blow into a punching bag, which swung perilously from it's chain.

She watched as the man dodged imaginary blows before responding with his own, each hit connecting solidly with the bag before, with an almost feral roar, he suddenly turned and walked away from the equipment. Striding to a nearby bench, he picked up a towel and water bottle, taking a swig from the container. A small stereo system was sitting on the bench, his music player connected in to the machine. Turning around, he paused as his gaze settled on the pink girl. His frame became more relaxed and subdued at the sight of the young princess.

"Euphemia," he said simply, his eyes refusing to meet hers. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled a small remote from his pocket and turned off the music, bathing the room in silence, save for his ragged breathing and the gentle creaking of the chains of the punching bag.

"Are you all right, Ciaran?" Euphemia asked, her voice carrying her concern clearly.

Using the towel to wipe away the built up sweat on his neck, the young man sat down on the bench. "No. No, I don't think I am."

Euphemia walked towards the man, taking a seat next to him.

"It's just... what happened in Saitama today," Ciaran continued unprompted, "There were people in that ghetto. Human beings. And they were just slaughtered like cattle. I... I just can't accept that." He ran his bandaged hands through his hair, slicking it back before letting his hand hang limp between his legs.

Euphemia didn't say anything. She just rested her head on her friend's shoulder as he slumped forward, interlocking one of her hands with his.

"You're tired," She said soothingly. "Go to bed. You'll feel better tomorrow."

Ciaran didn't say anything, just giving a nod in agreement. Reaching down, he unlinked his hand from Euphemia's and begun unbinding his hands, letting the gauze fall to the floor in a heap. Reaching over, Euphemia unplugged the music player from the stereo system. Reading the small screen, she couldn't help but frown at the words on the display.

 _The Trooper – Iron Maiden_

Euphemia didn't say anything as she handed the device to Ciaran who was now standing, the towel draped over his neck and the bottle held in his hand. Pocketing the device, he then offered his hand to the seated princess. Placing her hand in his, she lifted herself from the bench.

Exiting the room, with Ciaran closing the door behind the pair. Running his hand through his hair again, now a little more subdued than before. This made Euphemia giggle, before taking his hand again.

"Have a good night, Ciaran." She said before hugging the young man.

Wrapping an arm around the girls shoulder, Ciaran gently pressed his lips to her forehead, before rubbing his cheek against his head. "You too, Euphemia."

The two walked the same corridor before splitting to go to their own rooms. Closing the door for the night, Ciaran stripped out of his uniform and climbed into his bed.

Sleep took him easily.

* * *

 **AN: Aaaand he is revealed! Our protag meets the infamous terrorist. And... not much happens. *shrug* What can I say? We're also introduced to Diethard Ried, a character who I freely admit to having zero like for.**

 **This was also an attempt at writing something a bit more serious for the story. I think I did fairly well to be honest with myself.**


	5. Chapter 5

Sitting in the middle of the deserts of Arizona, the grand Imperial city of Pendragon, capital city of the Holy Britannian Empire gleamed in the late evening sun, the magnitude of lights in the city springing into being as the light gave way to dark. Street and road lights came to life, even as many of the inhabitants of the city began their final trek to their homes.

Chief among all the lights were those that surrounded the Pendragon Imperial Palace, the residence of the ninety-eighth emperor, Charles zi Britannia, the large palace taking up the most space in the city. The building stood as an imposing edifice to Britannian Imperial might and power, the building rising above all of the cities, almost as if to challenge the surrounding mountains. The interior of the building reflected this splendour too: high-vaulted ceilings supported by grand marble arches, richly done paintings and splendidly carved busts of long dead emperors and empress' lined each corridor and filled each room, as if to remind it's inhabitants that they were walking in the shadows of dead titans.

Not that Nonette Enneagram, Knight of Nine, cared. Although, then again, she never really seemed to care about that sort of thing. Currently lounging on her stomach on one of the plush sofas in the room reserved for the Knights of the Round, the elite warriors of the Britannian Empire, the champagne-haired woman resembled a cat more than a feared knightmare pilot. This was normal on most days though, since Nonette did whatever she felt like doing.

And currently she was...

"Bored!" The woman moaned aloud, making it sound more like an insult that a statement.

With a sigh, the other occupant of the room closed her book before placing in on the small table in the middle of the room. Dorothea Ernst, Knight of Four, pinched the bridge of her nose at her companions antics.

"Then find something to do." The dark-skinned and black-haired woman said, managing to sound like an adult scolding a young child.

"But there's nothing TO do. That's the problem." Nonette said, raising herself up before flopping down onto her side, holding her arm across her eyes. "There's no wars going on, so the Emperor's not gonna make us do anything."

Dorothea simply sighed as she stood up to pour herself some tea. She knew what Nonette was like: without any form of action she just turned into someone akin to a child. Granted a child who sometimes had the mind of a perverted old man and a slight love of violence, although thankfully nothing on the same level as Luciano Bradley, but a child all the same. She just needed someone to help give her that little push. And unfortunately, that someone was usually her.

"How about going to see an opera?" Dorothea asked, putting some sugar in her drink.

"Can't stand them." The other woman simply replied.

"A film?"

"There's hardly anything good."

"Maybe read a book"

Nonette gave sharp single laugh. "Not a chance."

"Fine then," Dorothea said, already resigning herself to babysitting duty again. "What about a holiday then?"

Nonette didn't say anything for a few moments before pulling herself into a sitting position. Dorothea was admittedly taken aback.

"Now there's a thought." Nonette finally said, a smile coming to her face, before leaping off the sofa in a single bound. "It's been a while since I've been on a holiday."

Dorothea smiled sweetly, secure in the fact that she finally had the other woman out of her hair, letting her...

"Where should we go?"

Dorothea blinked in confusion. "We"

Nonette nodded. "Uh-huh. Where should we go?"

Dorothea began stammering, obviously confused. "W-why me? Why not Anya, or Gino? Or Monica?"

Nonette simply shrugged. "You suggested the idea. It's only right that I take you along too."

Dorothea really didn't know what to say. Granted, it was nice of Nonette to offer to take her on a holiday, especially considering that she hadn't been on a holiday for a good while, but to actually go with Nonette?

'Eh, could be worse.' she shrugged as she thought to herself.

"Where should we go then?" Dorothea asked, setting her teacup down before crossing her arms.

Nonette drummed a finger against her chin, thinking hard on where to go.

"How about Area 11?" Nonette asked.

"Area 11?" Dorothea's eyes widened. "But they've got a terrorist problem."

Nonette simply shrugged. "So we take our Knightmares. Relax a bit, then kick some terrorist arse. Have a bit of fun, you know."

She was silent for a moment, before Dorothea let out a chuckle.

"I'll get packed." She simply said, retrieving her book from the table before walking out of the room.

* * *

The silence in the car was almost stifling as the motorcade carrying Ciaran and Darlton made it's way down the main road to the Tokyo Settlement University. Although to call it a motorcade was stretching it a bit since it was made of two deep blue, bulletproof cars, one a limousine the other a simple staff car, each bearing the symbol of the Britannian Imperial family. The insides were leather, with woodwork panelling, and various other amenities for high-class nobles and important visitors.

Not that Darlton or Ciaran used either of them. Currently, the two men were sitting on opposite sides of the car, Darlton leafing through a file held in his large hands, while Ciaran just sat staring out of the window, his eyes fixed on something only he could see.

Glancing up from the file, the general let out a small sigh. He would have to be blind to not notice the way the young man had changed after the skirmish in Saitama, and he didn't like it. Euphemia herself had told him her own worries on the matter and she was as worried as he was. The boy had something to say, but he wouldn't talk.

"Why are we going to the university again, sir?" The young man asked, causing Darlton to close the file and look at the person across from him. Ciaran was still looking out of the window.

"We're going to check on the a small project that princess Cornelia feels could be beneficial to the army."

"Understandable." The man simply said, resting his elbow on the window sill of the car door.

Silence filled the interior for several more moments before Ciaran spoke up again.

"They say it gets easier. Dealing with death."

Darlton nodded, knowing what the young man was referring too. "It comes easier to some men than to others."

Ciaran kept looking out of the window before turning to look at the older general.

"Is it easy for you, sir?"

Darlton was silent for a moment.

"Not really, no."

Ciaran smiled softly, which Darlton returned.

"I know you spoke to Euphemia about it, but if you ever want to talk about it, Cornelia, Guilford or I am here for you."

"I know, sir." Ciaran said, lightly scratching the side of his nose. "I just needed a bit of a mope, I think."

Darlton was taken aback for a moment before his booming laugh filled the car.

"So you got me worried over nothing?" He said, his voice a mix of humour and shock.

Ciaran simply shrugged, as Darlton continued laughing, their convoy rolling towards their destination.

The duo made their way through the entrance of the university, the faculty and students keeping a respectable distance away from the officers as they made their way to the front-desk. Darlton kept his eyes forward while Ciaran's scanned the large atrium.

"Who's gonna be our guide, sir?" Ciaran asked, slightly confused.

"Her." Darlton replied, gesturing towards the front-desk. Standing there was a woman wearing a dark orange uniform, with indigo hair and blue eyes. She stood near the desk, looking around, but when her eyes settled on the form of the general, she stood at a slightly relaxed form of attention.

"Good morning to you, general Darlton." The woman said, smiling sweetly at the older man.

"Miss Croomy, good morning to you too." Darlton said amicably as he and Ciaran walked over. "Lieutenant Forsyth, allow me introduce you to Miss Cécile Croomy, member of Special Research Division Camelot. Miss Croomy, Lieutenant Ciaran Forsyth, the newest member of Princess Cornelia's Royal Guard."

Ciaran offered his hand which Cécile took and shook gently. "Call my Cecile."

"Call me Ciaran." The young man replied.

"So... are you here to check on the Lancelot, sir?" Cecile said, turning to look at the general, who merely nodded. "Follow me then." The woman said, gesturing down a hall behind her, the two officers falling into step behind her.

"So, Ciaran." This got the young man to look up at her, his face still a tiny shade of red. "How long have you been in the princess' Royal Guard."

"Just a couple of weeks." He said simply. It was an inaccurate statement in the least, but it still got Darlton to shoot him a warning look.

Cecile simply nodded her head. "Where did you serve with before, if you don't mind me asking?"

The young man quickly gave Darlton a worried look. Out of all the things they had discussed, this was definitely not one of them. All he had been given was a rank, uniform and an ID card. No-one had said anything about his background.

Thankfully, Cecile continued speaking, not noticing the young man's distress.

"Although your last name is familiar. Weren't the Forsyths one of the families who helped the Loyalists escape from Edinburgh to the Homeland?"

"Why, yes they were." Darlton replied, a look of surprise on his face as he remembered his history. "I believe it was the Duke Hector Forsyth that stayed behind with one of the Scots regiments to help cover the Royal flagship as it left the harbour in Glasgow."

Cecile turned back to look at the young lieutenant. "But you're still a lieutenant. I'd have thought that someone with your family history could have gotten a higher rank."

Ciaran merely shrugged. "I think my accent should have given it away, but I'm not a native Britannian. Even with my family pedigree, they didn't wholly trust me enough to hold a higher rank."

The indigo-haired woman merely nodded. It sounded like a good explanation, even though Ciaran was completely bullshitting. He was pretty sure Darlton knew it, but if he did, the man didn't show it.

Eventually the trio reached a large metal door, which Cecile opened with a thumbprint scan recogniser. Seconds after, the door opened with a hiss, steam emitting from the gap in the door.

"Just as warning, sirs, the temperature in the room is much colder than in the corridor due to the need to stop the metals from overheating." Cecile said.

"Sounds like it's gonna be interesting." Ciaran said with a smile, before a cold shiver went down his spine as the cold seeped from the door.

* * *

The room would have resembled more of a mechanic's garage than scientists laboratory if it wasn't for the large white Knightmare that filled the space in the middle of the room. Ciaran let out a low 'whoof' at the mech before him. It was the same height as the Sutherland and the Gloucester frames, but with a single large crest in the middle of the units head. It's armour plating was much more sleek and rounded, looking more like actual armour than the other Knightmares, painted white with a gold inlay.

"It's a remarkable machine, isn't it?" A quite high-pitched but distinctly masculine voice said, drawing Ciaran's attention. From behind a bank of computers, a tall man, round about the same height as Darlton, with lavender hair and light blue eyes appeared. He was wearing a long white overcoat and glasses.

"Ah, professor Asplund." General Darlton said, he and Cecile turning to face the newcomer.

"Please, please, general, call me Lloyd." The professor said, waving his hand dismissively, as he continued towards the young lieutenant. "So... what do you think of it?"

The man was balancing on the balls of his feet, waiting for Ciaran to answer.

"It's impressive, I'll give you that," the young man said flatly, keeping the awe out of his voice as he looked at the machine again. "Although I'm not too taken on the colour, if I'm honest."

"You what!?" Lloyd said, lurching back as if Ciaran had just shoved a hot branding iron at him. "You don't like... the colour is the most important part!" The professor practically screamed, catching Ciaran by surprise.

"Actually," Cecile cut in, "The colour choice doesn't really matter."

Rounding on Cecile, the bespectacled man opened his mouth to speech again before Darlton beat him to the punch.

"Professor Lloyd, I have urgent matters to discuss with you. Is there somewhere we can talk in private?"

Lloyd looked between Ciaran and the general before sighing. "Yes, general. Follow me." And with that the two exited the room, leaving Ciaran and Cecile with the white Knightmare.

"Don't mind him, Ciaran," the woman said apologetically, "He's just very protective of the Lancelot."

"I can see that." Ciaran admitted, idly rubbing the back of his head as he faced the woman. "And he's balls-to-the-wall mad too."

Cecile shrugged. "He is who he is."

Ciaran couldn't argue with that logic. Although he also didn't want to, since the cold of the room was beginning to get to him, as he rubbed his arms through his sleeves.

"Do you want to go somewhere warmer, Ciaran?"

"Yes please." Ciaran said quickly, as he followed the indigo-haired woman out of room, the door closing behind them.

* * *

Standing near a vending machine, Cecile drew some loose change from her pocket as her new compatriot scanned the drinks choices.

"Is there anything you'd like?" The woman asked.

"I'll just go for a Cola." The man said, gesturing at the machine. Inserting the change, Cecile pressed the button for the drink which came out a moment later. The young man took the can as Cecile entered more money and pressed the same button. Soon the two were sitting on a nearby bench in amicable silence.

"How is it in the royal guard, if you don't mind me asking?" Cecile said out of the blue, catching Ciaran by surprise.

"Yeah, it's not too bad. I'm mainly helping princess Euphemia with her duties," Ciaran replied, taking a drink from his can. "What's it like working for Lloyd?"

Cecile chuckled. "Tiring, to use a single word."

The young man nodded in understanding. "So, is it just you working with him or is there another poor soul who gets to suffer along with you?"

The woman chuckled again. "No, there's several other people, but since we use people out of the other engineering corps or the university staff, sometimes it's just myself, Lloyd and the Lancelot's pilot."

"Yeah, where is the pilot?" Ciaran asked, looking around the area as if the pilot would suddenly show-up. "I'd have thought he'd be here for the inspection."

"Unfortunately, he's got more pressing matters to contend with at the moment." Cecile said, finishing the last of her drink and putting the can in the bin.

"What could be more important than a military inspection?" Ciaran asked, slightly taken aback.

"Exams." The woman said simply.

"Ah." Ciaran simply said in return, grimacing before he carried on with his drink. He remembered his exams. They were not nice. "So how old is he? Or is that classified info?"

"Seventeen." Cecile said, resting her chin on her arm which she propped up on her knee.

Ciaran blinked in confusion for several seconds before he finally spoke.

"You're bullshitting me?"

Cecile shook her head, a sad look plain on her face. "He's in Ashford Academy, just across the street. Do you want to meet him?"

Standing up, Ciaran upended his can, downing the last of it before tossing it in to the bin.

"I think I do."

After informing Darlton of where they were going, the duo left the university and headed over to Ashford Academy.

* * *

"You Britannians do not do things by half, do you?" Ciaran said as he and Cecile stood in the pathway that lead to Ashford Academy. After passing through the front gate and security, which was made much easier simply by the Briton wearing the uniform of the royal guard, the duo made their way to the large and extravagant building complex.

"It is a bit over-the-top, yes," Cecile admitted as the two made their way up some steps towards the main building. "But if it serves it's purpose, then who are we to complain?"

"Fair point." The young man conceded as the duo entered the building. Classes seemed to be on, as there were hardly any students in the hallways meaning they could walk around unimpeded, although it did make their progress to finding the Lancelot's pilot a little bit difficult, the duo wandering around the school somewhat aimlessly.

Thankfully, as they were walking down one corridor, a member of the faculty happened to appear.

"Excuse me, sir," Cecile asked, catching the man's attention. "We're looking for Suzaku Kururugi. Do you have any idea where he could be?"

The teacher paused a moment, looking the pair of officers up and down, visibly a little hesitant that two soldiers, one a royal guardsman would be after a student.

"He's currently in class. Room A-4. Is it an emergency?"

"Not as such, no," Ciaran answered. "We're just looking to have a word with the young lad at the earliest convenience."

"Well in that case, you'd be best waiting in the student council room. I know that Kururugi was made a member of the council so waiting there would be your best bet. Follow me."

Following the teacher, the duo were shown to a spacious room, with a large table and chairs in the middle, a small desk set to into one corner and what appeared to be a cat's climbing frame where a slightly pudgy dark grey cat resided.

Cecile sat down on one of the chairs while Ciaran went over to the cat who was busy cleaning himself, just as the bell rang.

"Do you think we'll have to wait long?" Ciaran asked, giving the pudgy cat a small scratch behind the ear, the cat responding with a pleased purr.

"... and for the last time, Rivalz, I'm not gonna let you cheat off of me for the exam!"

"Why not?!"

At that, the door opened, a trio teenage boys walking in. They were all about the same height as Ciaran and Cecile, but with varying features. One of them had brown hair and green eyes, but of obvious Japanese descent, holding himself quite smartly. The other two as opposite as possible: one had a shock of blue hair with expressive grey eyes with a slightly slouched posture, while the other possessed ebony hair with purple, bored eyes. The three were engrossed in their conversation. However, upon entering the room, the brown-haired boy stood stock still, surprise plain on his face.

"Miss Cecile? What are you doing here?" The boy asked before he saw Ciaran who was still scratching the cat behind the ear. "Lieutenant, sir! I'm sorry, I didn't see you there." The boy snapped off a smart salute. The two other boys simply exchanged a confused look.

"It's all right, Suzaku," Cecile said, standing up from her chair. "Ciaran, this is boy I was telling you about, warrant-officer Suzaku Kururugi. Suzaku, this is lieutenant Ciaran Forsyth of princess Cornelia's royal guard."

Ciaran responded by waving the boy's hand down. "Put you hand down, Suzaku. This isn't a formal visit." He gave a small smile as he walked closer to the boy, offering his hand. "In this instance, just call me Ciaran."

Suzaku lowered his hand, confusion plain on his face before he took the hand. "Pleased to meet you, sir- I mean, Ciaran. Umm... why are you here though, if you don't mind me asking."

"Well, you're the pi- ow!" Ciaran began, before he felt a pinch on his upper arm. He looked incredulously at Cecile who merely narrowed her eyes at him. "I mean, you're the young man Cecile mentioned, and I wanted to meet you. Seventeen years old and you're a warrant-officer. That's an achievement."

"If you say so, Mr Ciaran." Suzaku said, simply shrugging before perking up slightly. "Oh, let me introduce you to my friends."

"This is Rivalz." He placed his arm around the shoulder of the blue haired boy, who's face lit up.

"Pleased to meet cha both." Rivalz said, taking Ciaran's hand before enthusiastically shaking it, before moving onto Cecile.

"And this is Lelouch." Suzaku said, putting his hand on the ebony haired boy's shoulder.

"Nice to meet you." Lelouch took Ciaran's hand in a calm handshake, the boy's clinical voice not matching up with his smile.

"Well, this is certainly an interesting bunch." Ciaran admitted after the exchange of greetings. "And I'll be honest, Suzaku, but I'm surprised to meet a Japanese with the rank of warrant-officer in the Britannian army."

"Yes. Princess Cornelia isn't too fond of letting Numbers work in the military, especially now that Zero's arrived." Cecile chimed in.

"Understandable," Ciaran said, scratching his chin. "Counterinsurgency can be stymied a bit because of locals sympathising with the insurgents."

"You think Suzaku's a terrorist?" Rivalz asked, surprised.

"If he was, he wouldn't be in the military." Ciaran said pointedly. "And no, I do not think so."

"Shouldn't be surprising that a Britannian has such an opinion of our friend." Lelouch said, a little testily.

Ciaran raised a finger. "Ah, but I'm not Britannian. I'm British."

Rivalz slammed a closed fist into his open palm. "I thought your accent was strange!"

The young man chuckled, sitting back down in his chair.

Soon, the conversation flowed, Rivalz rambling on, asking him about why he was here and other things. Sometimes, Ciaran managed to steer the conversation towards Suzaku, asking him about how he was faring in the army, and towards Lelouch, just asking him whatever questions came to mind.

It was nice. It reminded him of his time in high school and sixth form, being around people his own age. A life he'd never get back, if he could.

* * *

Lelouch couldn't believe his luck. A member of the Britannian military at Ashford. And a member of Cornelia's royal guard no less.

'This will make my plans progress much more smoothly.' He thought to himself, as the four continued their conversation, not one of them noticing the near feral smile playing on his face.

The unexpected ringing of a phone drew their attention, the guardsman reaching into his pocket to take out the offending device.

"Ciaran here. Yes, general, we're in Ashford Academy." The lieutenant said talking into the receiver. "Yeah. No, we're pretty much finished here. Yes, we're on our way out. See you soon general. Good bye."

Pocketing the device, the man stood up, stretching out his back. "Well, it looks like that's me done. Shall we go, Cecile?"

"Yes, I think it would be best. Nice meeting you both." The woman said, standing up and offering her hand to Rivalz and Lelouch, who shook it gently. "And I'll see you soon Suzaku." The woman gave Suzaku a genuine smile, waving her hand.

"Yeah, I hope to see you guys again," Ciaran said, offering his hands to the boys. Turning to look at Suzaku, he put a hand on his shoulder. "And Suzaku, if you need anything, just contact me, okay?"

Lelouch couldn't mask his surprise at that. Neither did Suzaku.

"Umm... I'm not sure that's..."

"Suzaku," The lieutenant said sternly, "I mean it. If you ever need help, just contact me. And I'll do my best."

The boy was taken aback by the show of kindness, not that Lelouch blamed him.

"I'm not Britannian, I'm British, Suzaku, just as you're Japanese. As such, I will not follow how these people act about race. You and me, we're both soldiers without a home. We need to band together."

"I-if you say so, sir." Suzaku said, more than a little bit confused, but also quite pleased.

Ciaran smiled broadly and gave him a pat on the shoulder before making his way to the door.

"Coming, Cecile?"

Moving quickly, the female officer followed her companion out of the door, giving the trio a small wave and a "good bye" before exiting, leaving the three boys in a state of confusion.

"Well... they're a nice pair." Rivalz said after a while, breaking the silence, a genuine smile on his face. "Looks like the army's treating you well, hey Suzaku?"

Looking at the door, Lelouch got up and made his way to the door.

"Where you going, Lelouch?" Suzaku asked, looking at this friend.

"Huh. Oh. Sorry, I've got something to take care of for Nunnally. I'll be back in a little while." He said simply before slipping out of the door.

It didn't take long before he came across the duo of officers, their uniforms making them stand out against the black and tan uniforms of the student body. Working his way through the crowd, he came up behind the pair.

"Excuse me! Lieutenant!" He called out, managing to catch up to the pair.

Turning, the young man looked at the teenager a sincere smile on his face.

"What's up... Lelouch, right?" The officer said, trying to place the name.

"That's right, sir. Can I talk to you in private about something?"

The officer looked him in the eye for a second before turning to Cecile. "This'll only take a moment. I'll catch up."

Lelouch smiled inwardly as he watch the female officer nod before he and the royal guardsman walked down a side hall. It wasn't long before they made their way to an empty classroom.

"So... what can I do for you?" The man said, crossing his arms and leaning against the teacher's desk.

Taking a deep breath, Lelouch steadied himself. It was now or never.

"Lieutenant, I was wondering..." He turned around, looking him in the eye. "Will you take me to see princess Cornelia?"

His Geass activated.

* * *

 **AN: Okay, first off, I'm gonna want to apologise for the length of time it took between the last chapter and this one if you were waiting for the next update. I will admit that with this sort of thing, I am not the best time keeper.**

 **Now onto the chapter itself. Yes, it is going a bit slow. I will admit it. But it's gonna get better, trust me.**

 **First off, I feel compelled to say this: the protag is me. Yes, I put myself into the story. Why didn't I do it as a first-person? One reason: problems with my self-image. I cannot write about myself in a first person narrative without being a bit unflattering about myself.**

 **The length of this chapter might need an explanation. This chapter went through at least... oh, 5 or 6 revisions before I was satisfied with this one. I wanted to do a whole thing with me meeting the student council, but whatever I wrote, it just didn't flow that well. So I decided to lower the number down to just Rivalz, Lelouch and Suzaku. Plus, it was originally gonna be a huge long story involving meeting Dorothea and Nonette before terminating at the start of the Lake Kawaguchi Incident. But I decided to cut it down to size.**

 **And yes, I did introduce the Knights of Four and Nine, Dorothea Ernst and Nonette Enneagram into my story. I did say it was gonna be an AU afterall. Why those two? Well, I felt a bit sorry for them since they seem like two characters who could have a huge amount of backstory but what do they get? Nonette get's a little bit of a reveal in a game before both she and Dorothea get a bridge dropped on them.**

 **Also: why is there no character tag for Darlton? The man deserves so much better.**

 **So yeah, read, enjoy and review.**


	6. Chapter 6

"So... what can I do for you?" The man said, crossing his arms and leaning against the teacher's desk.

Taking a deep breath, Lelouch steadied himself. It was now or never.

"Lieutenant, I was wondering..." He turned around, looking him in the eye. "Will you take me to see princess Cornelia?"

His Geass activated.

The Power of The King, C.C. had called it. The power to compel anyone to do anything Lelouch wanted them to. To act against their own inbuilt nature, to commit any act that Lelouch commanded. To do it all without any hesitation and...

"No can do, lad." The officer said, a smile plain on his face.

'Wha..?'

"I mean, I can't just take you into the Viceroy's Palace and bring you to her. Imagine the questions!" The man continued, spreading his arms wide.

Lelouch was not sure what was going on. Had his Geass failed?

"Are-are you sure you can't?" He tried again, feeling his eye activate. He was certain he saw the rims of the man's eyes turn red for the faintest of seconds before turning back to their original colour.

"Why do you want to go anyway?" The officer asked him, crossing his arms again. "School assignment? Some petition you need signed or something?"

Lelouch stumbled back half a step, stammering and mumbling as his plans crashed down around him.

Leaning forward, the man look him square in the face before grinning widely.

"Ooh. I get it."

'I'm sorry Nunnally,' Lelouch thought to himself, 'I tried my best.'

"Well, I can't say I don't blame you," the officer shrugged as he pushed himself off of the desk, "You're a teenage boy. You're young, you've not long since hit puberty, and, I will admit, Cornelia is a very attractive woman."

Lelouch felt his face drop. If he thought the previous part of his plan had gone wrong, this part had gone in a completely different direction.

"Don't worry. I won't say anything." Ciaran said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "But for future reference, it would take more than simply asking me to get you to see the princess. Now I must be off. See ya." And with that, the man left Lelouch standing in the middle of the classroom alone, confused and angry.

"What the hell just happened?!" He cried, grabbing his hair.

* * *

Ciaran jogged down the hallway towards the entrance of Ashford Academy, dodging and weaving his way around students who didn't move out of his way. Exiting the academy, he made his way down the stairs, where he proceeded to jog the rest of way down the avenue towards the gates. Making his way to the end, he saw Darlton and Cecile engaged in discussion.

Looking up, he saw the general grin before spreading his arms in an exaggerated gesture.

"And what kept you?" Darlton asked, fake anger in his voice.

"One of the students side-lined me to ask about joining the army," Ciaran lied, as he drew up to the general. "I just told him he needed to go see a recruitment officer if he was that interested in joining."

Darlton nodded, while Cecile just raised an eyebrow. "Fair enough. Come on, let's go."

Walking over, Ciaran took Cecile's hands in a two-handed grip. "Cecile, it's been a delight to meet you and Suzaku. I hope to see you again soon."

Cecile was taken aback for a moment before a warm smile came to her face, returning the handshake. "It's been a pleasure to meet you too, Ciaran."

With that, the two parted hands, Ciaran and Darlton climbing into the limousine which began it's journey back to the Viceroy's Palace.

* * *

Leaving the motorcade behind and entering the Palace, Darlton sensed something was wrong, even as he and Ciaran entered the lift. He couldn't place it though, but whatever it was, it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge.

"Something wrong, sir?" The young man asked, seeing the general's back stiffen.

"I'm not sure, lad," The general asked, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "but something is gonna happen. Something big."

Ciaran looked worried for a moment, before he unclipped the cover of his holster, withdrawing his pistol. Darlton couldn't help but grin as he watched the young man draw back the slide, checking the chamber before letting it snap back and replaced it in the holster.

"Safety first, right?" Ciaran said, a small smile playing on his face.

The general shook his head, but copied the same action as the elevator reached it's destination in the lobby of the Palace. The doors opened with a 'ding', revealing the lavish interior of the lobby. To the untrained eye, it seemed calm enough. Maids and servants went about their chores, while security guards stood at attention at their assigned positions. But Darlton felt the change: a small static charge that caught his attention and made his brow furrow in confusion. Looking around, his eyes settled on the rigid form of Guilford, standing hear a column, his arms crossed over his chest and his head bowed.

"Lord Guilford." Ciaran called out, getting the knight's attention, causing him to look up.

"Ah, Ciaran, Darlton. Good to see you." The bespectacled man said, snapping up from his reverie as he quickly walked over to the pair. "We have a problem."

"I thought as much," Darlton said, looking around the lobby again. "What's wrong, Gil?"

"I think it's best if you follow me." Guilford said, beckoning them to follow him with a finger.

The trio walked in silence through the palace before they reached their destination outside the Viceroy's office. Ciaran and Darlton shared a concerned look as Guilford knocked on the door.

Soon the door opened, revealing the pink form of Euphemia, whose face lit up in delight.

"Oh, you're all here. Thank you for coming so soon. Come in." At that, trio entered the office. At the end, in her usual place, sat the ever-present form of Cornelia. This time however, instead of sitting with a straight back and a stoic mask, her form was sullen. Her elbows rested on the desk-top, her hands supporting her forehead. Her hair was slightly ruffled, and her eyes seemed to be focused solely on the letter in front of her.

"Your highness!" Darlton said, rushing to the desk. "What's wrong?"

Cornelia didn't respond. She merely stared at the piece of paper in front of her.

"She's been like this ever since that letter arrived," Euphemia said, looking sullenly at her sister. "I don't why though."

The trio shared a confused look before, stepping forward, Ciaran tentatively slid the paper from beneath Cornelia's gaze. The princess didn't respond however, even as the paper moved from beneath her. Unsure of what to do, Ciaran handed the letter to Euphemia, who took it quickly as Darlton and Guilford gathered around her. Their eyes scanned the page, but as they did, the colour slowly drained from their faces, fear evident in their eyes.

"Uh... something you want to tell me?" Ciaran asked, worry and confusion plain in his voice. In reply, Euphemia handed him the letter, her face still with a look of fear on it. Guilford was shaking his head, while Darlton simply had his hand over his eyes with his head tilted to the ceiling.

Taking the letter, Ciaran began reading.

 _ **My dearest Cornelia,**_

 _ **I hope this letter finds you well. I know I don't write to you enough, if at all. Letters just aren't my thing, as I'm sure you know.**_

 _ **Anyway, I'm writing to let you know that I have taken the liberty of giving myself a holiday, and where better to spend it than with my lovely old roommate from the academy? I'll be coming to Area 11 along with Dorothea, who insisted on coming along with me. It'll be just like the old times.**_

 _ **Not sure when this letter will arrive, but we plan to arrive in Area 11 on the 26th. Also, just to let you know that there's no need for a big welcoming party or anything like that. It's not our style now, is it?**_

 _ **Hope to see you soon,**_

 _ **All the love,**_

 _ **Nonette. (kiss)**_

The young man couldn't help but grimace at the last part as it was signed with an actual kiss. In bright red lipstick. But he still couldn't see the problem.

"Okay, apart from how forward she seems to be, I still don't see how this Nonette person can cause you all to... well, act like she's the devil incarnate."

The sound of a squeaking chair and a ragged intake of breath drew everyone's attention as Cornelia sat back in her chair, running her hand through her thick purple locks, smoothing out the imperfections.

"Consider yourself lucky, Ciaran," the princess said, making it sound like he had told some bad joke. "What day did she say she'd arrive on?"

"The... 26th." Ciaran replied, rereading the letter, before his head snapped back up. Using his finger, he counted off the days on an invisible calender only he could see before him, muttering to himself. "... came on the 9th ... two weeks, plus... that's today!" He said, the realization hitting him full force.

The princess however, put a hand up in a gesture that said 'I told you so', before standing up.

"Right everyone," her voice filled with the same force it had on the G-1, "Nonette's coming, so I want you to all be at your full alert. Any slip ups, and she will be on you faster than you can blink. Is that understood?"

"Yes, your highness!" Darlton and Guilford snapped off in a perfect military cadence.

"Yes, sister." Euphemia said meekly, her colour returning but fear still plain on her face.

"Umm... and myself?" Ciaran asked hesitantly.

Drumming her fingers on the desk, Cornelia was deep in thought for a while before she spoke. "All I can say is what I just said: be on full alert and watch your back."

"As you say, my lady," Ciaran replied, folding the letter and placing it back on the desk. "Just out of curiosity, should I keep my side-arm on me at all times during her visit?"

The princess paused for a second, looking at Darlton and Guilford before looking at the young man again. "It wouldn't hurt."

Darlton couldn't help share a chuckle with Guilford as Ciaran replied, "I don't like how you had to think about that."

* * *

The waning evening sun bathed the landing pad in a red light, even as the lights of the settlement cast the surrounding area in a bright glow. On the platform, near a red carpet that stretched from the door into the palace to the landing pad itself, Cornelia and Euphemia stood ready to meet their guests. Behind them, standing at parade rest, Guilford, Darlton and Ciaran stood in their uniforms.

Glancing back, Cornelia couldn't help but smile at the junior officer. He was still wearing the uniform of the royal guard, but over it he was wearing the same ballistic armour he wore in Saitama. In his hands he held a submachine gun.

"Aren't you going a bit over the top, Ciaran?" She asked jokingly.

"Until Darlton stopped me, I wanted to come with a rifle." The young man said flatly.

"I blame myself," Cornelia admitted, "I think I made the situation sound worse then it will be." She shot a smile at the young man, who looked down sheepishly before slinging the firearm behind his back.

"Your highness," Guilford interrupted, "I have just received word that Lady Nonette's transport will arrive within the next few minutes."

Cornelia nodded and turned back to face the platform. Looking to her side, she could see Euphemia give a slight tremble, even in the hot air of the summer evening. Reaching over, she put an arm around her sister and pulled her close.

"It'll be okay, my dear Euphie." She said sweetly, even as the air filled with the faint sound of roaring turbines. Looking up, she saw the sleek, hawk-like shape of the transport of the Knights of the Round coming closer, it's flanks painted in immaculate white with flecks of gold. Descending to the platform, the backwash for the turbines whipped the air, causing all present to shield their faces for a time before the turbines fell from a roar to a whine before falling silent.

Cornelia straightened her back as the ramp to the transport opened, a set of stairs emerging from the metal as it connected with the ground. Looking up, the door way was filled as two figures made their way down the ramp. The first was the black-haired and dark-skinned form of the Knight of Four, Dorothea Ernst, while the second was the one she dreaded.

"Yoo-hoo! Cornelia!" The champagne haired Nonette Enneagram yelled, waving an arm to catch the princess' attention, even as she stood no less than ten feet away from her. The woman advanced forward, her lithe body clad in the clean white uniform of the Knights of the Round, her characteristic purple cloak trailing behind her.

The princess hardly had time to return the greeting before she found herself in a hug that crushed the air from her lungs, the scent of perfume filling her nose as she was pressed tight by Nonette who seemed to be grinning inanely.

"It's so good to see you again, Nellie." The knight said jovially, relinquishing the hug and standing before the princess.

Cornelia could only smile faintly at the woman, even as Dorothea made her way to stand next to her companion. The dark-skinned woman was quiet for a moment before she politely coughed in to her hand, getting Nonette's attention.

"Oh, you always have to play by the rules, don't you, Dorothea?" Nonette said, rolling her eyes before both woman knelt down before the princess, their heads bowed.

"Lady Dorothea Ernst, Knight of Four."

"And Lady Nonette Enneagram, Knight of Nine."

"At your service, your highness." The pair intoned the last part together.

"Rise, Knights of the Round." Cornelia said, flicking a hand up, as the pair stood. Stepping forward, the princess took Dorothea's hand in a handshake. "I can only apologise for having to be the travel companion of Nonette. I know how much of a handful she can be."

The knight shook her head with a rueful smile. "It's my own fault, your highness. I suggested that Nonette take a holiday and she ended up dragging me a long with her."

The princess nodded in understanding before a surprised and muffled squeal drew the two women's attention. Turning, they saw the sight of Nonette holding Euphemia in a tight hug, the older woman lifting her off the ground and rubbing her face against her cheek.

"Ah, my sweet little Euphie!" Nonette gushed. "It's been far too long. The last time I saw you, you were only up to my knee!"

"Nonette, please stop manhandling my younger sister." Cornelia said, her eyes closed even as she said it.

Nonette responded with a small 'huff' as she let the young girl go to the floor, Euphemia landing on her feet, before moving on to Darlton and Guilford, embracing each man in turn as old friends. Then she turned to the youngest man in the group...

"Oh no." Cornelia said to herself quietly. Dorothea raised an eyebrow, before her eyes widened when she saw what the princess was referring to.

"Well, now," Nonette purred, looking the junior officer up and down. "I've certainly not seen you before. And who might you be?"

For his part, Ciaran kept a straight face, standing at attention. "Lieutenant Ciaran Forsyth, ma'am." He bowed his head in respect, which made Cornelia wince.

"Bad move, Ciaran." She muttered under he breath.

Before either of them could react, Nonette wrapped her arms around the young man's shoulders and pulled him into her chest, Ciaran letting out a muffled sound of confusion. All present could only gasp in surprise, their eyes widening. Euphemia put her hands over her mouth while Dorothea simple put her palm against her forehead.

"Well, you're a cute one, and that's no lie." Nonette said to the man pressed against her bust. Ciaran didn't struggle or make any indication that he heard her, as his body seemed to go limp in the embrace, his arms dangling at his side. Although from what could be seen of the top of his head, a bright red blush had overtaken his face.

"Nonette! What are you doing?" Dorothea cried, stepping forward.

The champagne-haired woman gave her a confused look as she shrugged her shoulders. "Just saying hello."

"Let him go. Now." The Knight of Four said sternly.

"Fine." The Knight of Nine replied, releasing her grip on the lieutenant, who promptly collapsed backwards to land on his behind. His face was bright red and his eyes were wide.

"Ciaran!" Euphemia called, rushing forward, as Darlton knelt down to help the man stand up.

"Are you okay, lieutenant?" Cornelia asked.

"Wha-what just happened?" Ciaran asked in turn, sounding very confused.

For her part, Nonette just grinned inanely, even as Cornelia put her palm against her forehead. It was gonna be a long holiday with Nonette around.

* * *

In a smoking room in the interior of the Viceroy's Palace, Dorothea reclined in a plush chair, rubbing her temples. Across from her, Darlton and Guilford sat at a small table, a decanter of whiskey shared between them.

"Lady Nonette's as carefree as ever, I see." Guilford said, taking a sip from his shot glass.

The Knight of Four could only shrug in reply.

After they had met with the princess and her entourage, Nonette had practically dragged Cornelia and Euphemia into a private room to talk, leaving the three officers and the Knight of Four on the landing platform. The young lieutenant had recovered quickly from the... incident, albeit with his face still slightly tinged red and had promptly excused himself. That left the trio to make their way to the smoking room.

To call it a smoke room would be wrong though, since none of the occupants smoked. The room was filled with plush and ornate chairs and sofas made from oak and covered in rich red fabric, contrasting well with the cream carpet and walls. A drinks bar was set against the wall, the shelves behind it filled with bottles of various sizes and vintages. There was even a coffee machine, the sleek black machine standing out on the wood work.

The trio sat in silence for a while, Darlton and Guilford continuing their drinking while Dorothea did her best to put off an encroaching migraine before a timid knock on the door drew their attention.

"Come in." Darlton called out as he refilled his empty glass.

The door opened, and Dorothea was surprised to see the head of the young lieutenant poking through the gap, the redness gone from his face. The young man's eyes scanned the room quickly.

"Is she here?" The lieutenant asked.

"If she was, you'd definitely know about it." Darlton replied, sly smile on his face.

Opening the door wider, the junior officer stepped through the threshold and closed the door behind him. The man had shed his body armour, along with his hat, leaving his royal guardsman uniform.

"How are you feeling, Ciaran?" The large general asked.

"I'm good, sir. I'm good." The young man said, nodding his head before looking down at the floor.

"Don't worry about it, lieutenant," Dorothea cut in, a small smile on her face, "She's always been like that."

The young man nodded in understanding.

"Well, then," Dorothea continued, pushing herself off of her chair to walk over to the man. "I do not believe that we have been introduced. Lady Dorothea Ernst, Knight of Four." She held out her hand.

The young man looked it for a second before taking it and, to the surprise of the others in the room, turned if over and brought it up as he bowed, his lips just touching the knuckles before lowering it. "Lieutenant Ciaran Forsyth, at your service, my lady."

Recovering her hand, the Knight gave Ciaran a soft smile at the gesture.

"Well then," Ciaran said, rubbing his hands together, "What's the situation on drinks? Do we make them ourselves?"

"That's what we've been doing." Darlton replied, holding up his glass.

Ciaran nodded before turning to face Dorothea. "Can I get you anything, my lady?"

Dorothea thought for a second as the young man made his way to the bar. "I'll have a coffee, if you don't mind. Cappuccino, if you can do it."

"That I can do." Ciaran said with a cocky grin as he began taking out a cup and saucer for the woman's drink. Meanwhile, Darlton pulled out a deck of cards which he began shuffling.

"Since we've got all four of us here, how about a game of cards? Do you know any, Ciaran?"

The young man paused in thought as he steamed a small jug of milk.

"The only one I know well enough is rummy, general." The young man said as he poured the coffee into Dorothea's cup.

"Rummy it is then." The general said as he gave the cards one last shuffle. Dorothea came over with her chair while Guilford moved aside his own to make room for another chair. Soon, Ciaran joined them, Dorothea's cappuccino in one hand and a glass of lemonade in another.

Sitting down, he placed the coffee next to the woman who nodded her thanks as Darlton dealt out the cards, the group enjoying the comfort in the other's companionship as they played their game.

* * *

In an unknown location in Japan, lieutenant-colonel Josui Kusakabe sat on a small chair. He was wearing the drab green uniform that he had worn for the past seven years, the uniform of the Japanese Liberation Front, the former uniform of the Japanese Armed Forces. Resting on the floor beside him lay his ever present katana. His eyes were closed, as he was deep in thought

"Lieutenant-colonel?" An aide asked, approaching him. Like Kusakabe, he too wore a drab green military uniform.

"Yes, corporal?" The man replied, not looking up.

"Sir, I have reports from the leaders of the squads you asked for."

"And?" Kusakabe opened his eyes to look at the young officer.

"They have said they're ready to move on your orders, sir."

Kusakabe smiled. Everything was in order.

"Perfect. Send this to all squad leaders: be ready to move in a day's time. Our target will be the Lake Kawaguchi Convention Centre hotel."

* * *

 **AN: BUM-BUM-BUUUM! Cliff hanger from the prrvious chapter is resolved, but now a new one has been done instead. Oh, I'm cruel. c:**

 **Not much to say on this one. I did kind of want to extend the scene with Lelouch a bit by including him question C.C. about why his Geass didn't work, but no matter what I wrote down, it just didn't flow right. So I left it where I left it. Also, we get to meet Dorothea and Nonette proper now. Admittedly, quirky characters are quite hard for me to write, so I think I may have been a bit to on the nose with Nonette's behaviour tad, but... eh. You learn from your mistakes.**

 **Well, I managed to stick to my schedule for getting this chapter out before then of the week, so I'm pleased with that. Hehe.**

 **Again: read, enjoy and review if you want to. Until next time... toodles.**


	7. Chapter 7

Standing in the garage of the Viceroy's Palace, Cornelia stood silently as she drummed her fingers against her biceps. Standing before her, next to a nondescript car, stood her little sister and two bodyguards. Instead of her regal, pink gown, Euphemia was wearing a nondescript white skirt coupled with a tan jacket with pink highlights. The outfit was completed by a pair of pink rimmed glasses. To anyone else, she could easily pass for a Britannian student.

And Cornelia wasn't pleased.

"Euphie, I'm going to say this for the last time: I am not happy with you going to that convention." The elder princess said sternly.

"Don't worry, sister." Euphemia said, smiling sweetly. "It's only going to be for the day and I'll have my two bodyguards. I'll be fine."

Cornelia only frowned. She didn't think her heart could deal with the idea of anything happening to her sister. But Euphemia had a strong spirit and she was her little sister after all. With a sigh, Cornelia let her head drop.

"All right. But just for the day." Cornelia said sternly.

However, Euphemia only smiled before embracing her sister. The viceroy returned the hug, holding her sister for a few moments before pressing her lips to Euphemia's forehead.

"Be safe, little Euphie." Cornelia said gently.

"I will, Nellie." Euphemia said happily. The use of Cornelia's nickname from Nonette made the older woman wince, but she still smiled as she let Euphemia go. She stood watching her and her bodyguards climb into their car which promptly left the garage. Soon, Cornelia was standing alone in the wide expanse of the garage. Turning, the princess made her way to the elevator that led from the garage to the palace above.

On her way to the elevator, she ran in to the person she least probably wanted to see this morning.

"Hello, Nonette." She said simply, nodding her head to the woman.

"Hello, yourself, Nellie." The Knight of Nine said with a grin, causing Cornelia to roll her eyes.

"I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times: stop calling me that!" Cornelia hissed through gritted teeth. Quickly, she regained her composure. "What are you doing in the garage anyway?"

"Nothing major," Nonette said, stretching her arms above her head. "Me and Dorothea were just overseeing our Knightmares being moved in."

Cornelia merely nodded as she began continuing her journey to the elevator, Nonette falling in line beside her, the duo walking in an uncommon silence until they reached the elevator.

"If you cared so much about her, you'd send someone like myself or Dorothea with her." The champagne-haired woman said out of nowhere.

Cornelia let out a sigh. "I did say, but she refused."

"Then how about Guilford. Or even that young lieutenant?"

"I did suggest, but she refused anyway. She said that she'd be fine with just her bodyguards." Cornelia said as she pressed the button to call the lift.

"You could just give her a pistol of her own, you know." Nonette said off handedly. It was pretty sound advice too: members of the Royal Family in the past had faced assassination attempts, so many of them began carrying personal side-arms along side their ever present bodyguards.

To the princess though, it was like suggesting that Euphemia join a gang or something similar. Suddenly, Cornelia spun to face Nonette fast enough to worry about whiplash as she turned, a scowl plain on her face.

"I will NOT have Euphemia carry a weapon."

"But why not?" Nonette asked, genuine concern plain in her voice.

The ding of the arriving elevator filled the empty air as Cornelia was silent. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I will not loose another person I love."

With that, the two women climbed into the elevator, the princess pressing the button to make the lift rise into the palace.

* * *

Reaching across, Ciaran reached into the packet of biscuits, withdrawing one which he promptly bit in to. Currently, the young man was seated at Euphemia's desk, filling out some paperwork. Although he wasn't actually filling out the paperwork. As a lieutenant, he didn't have the authority to sign anything in the sub-viceroy's place, so all he was doing was doing what he did when he first worked with Euphemia: sorting the paperwork by date to say which documents needed to be signed first. He was also using a small collection of stickers to mark which papers were the most important for signing.

With Euphemia gone, he had decided to take some liberties with his outfit. Granted, Euphemia was never really that much of a stickler for regulations, as she had allowed Ciaran to leave his hat off, but now he felt like pushing it. His jacket was off, along with his hat and gloves, and he had rolled the sleeves of his under-shirt to above his elbows. To someone looking in, he'd more than likely have easily passed for a university student instead of a military officer.

Applying the last label to the paper and closing the folder, he stretched out his shoulders and back with an audible _click_ before rolling his joints to ease out the stress before redressing. With the last of the paper work done, he picked up the pack of biscuits and exited the room. Euphemia hadn't left him anything else to do while she was away, so Ciaran pretty much let his feet carry him wherever they decided to go. It didn't take him long before he reached the entrance to Cornelia's office.

"Eh, worth a go, right?" Ciaran asked to no-one in particular before he knocked on the door. It didn't take long before the door opened, although to the young man's surprise, it wasn't the form he expected to see on the other side.

"Oh, Ciaran. What a surprise to see you here." Princess Cornelia said, a small smile coming to her face.

Rubbing the back of his head, Ciaran suddenly felt a bit embarrassed. "Well, I've finished the paperwork Euphemia gave me. So I was just at a loss on what else to do."

Cornelia nodded in understanding before pushing open the door wider. "Then come in then."

The young man bowed his head slightly before entering the room, the princess closing the door behind him. Together the two made their way to Cornelia's desk, Ciaran remaining standing until Cornelia had taken her seat before taking his.

"Care for a biscuit, your highness?" The young man asked, offering the princess the packet. Looking at the packet, Cornelia blinked several times before smiling and taking one out with a "thank you". The young man took a biscuit out for himself and started eating, the princess copying his action.

The two sat in relative silence before the purple-haired woman spoke up. "I'm afraid I haven't got anything for you to do at the moment, Ciaran, but since Guilford is assisting Nonette and Dorothea with their sleeping arrangements, I could do with the company, if you'd oblige me."

"Of course, your highness," Ciaran said, suppressing a smile at the idea of Lord Guilford trying to help Nonette. Looking across the desk, his eyes settled on the back of what looked like a silver picture frame. Following his line of sight, Cornelia smiled softly as she reached over to take hold of the photo-frame.

"I don't think you've been shown any photos of my other family, have you?" The princess asked as she reached over to the take hold of the frame as Ciaran shook his head 'no'. Turning the frame around, the young man leaned closer to look at the picture in the frame. There were five people in the frame: a young woman, probably in her early-thirties with long black hair and soft violet eyes, surrounded by four children. One was a boy with short black hair and the same violet eyes as the woman and three girls, two with pink hair of varying shades and one with long, curly, sandy brown hair. Ciaran couldn't help but grin as he recognized two of the figures.

"Euphemia was a cute one, eh?" The young man said, looking at the image of the young princess who could only have been six or seven. "And, if I may be honest, you look very different to what I imagined."

"How do you mean?" The older woman asked, confusion plain on her face.

"I just imagined seeing pictures of you when you were younger in a little hussar's dolman." Ciaran said with a shrug and a chuckle before looking at the photo again. "Who are the other three though?"

At that, Cornelia's face saddened, although a smile still remained. "The woman is the late empress, Marianne vi Britannia, the fifth wife of my father, Charles zi Britannia. The young boy is my half-brother, Lelouch, and the young girl is Nunnally. After Marianne was... after she was murdered and Nunnally was crippled, she and Lelouch were sent to Area 11 as political prisoners. But they perished in the war."

Ciaran gave Cornelia a concerned look. He could hear anger in her voice, anger directed at herself. Sadness was there too.

"You were very close then?"

Cornelia nodded. "I admired Marianne, with all my heart, and I loved her children as much as I love Euphie." She sagged forward in her chair, resting her elbows on the desk and her head in her hands as she let out a shuddering breath. "I was so happy to be given the post as the captain of her guard. But I..."

"What happened?" The young man asked softly, resting his interlocked hands on the desk. Sighing, Cornelia regained some of her former composure as she sat up straight in her chair.

"On the day that... that Marianne was murdered, as the captain of her guard, I was ordered to disable the security system of her villa and disband her guard contingent for the day. I tried to protest, but she still ordered me to do it."

"Sounds like you were stuck between a rock and a hard place." The young man said flatly.

"How do you figure?" Cornelia asked, looking him in the eye.

"Well, you were torn between your duty as a soldier and your duty as a family member. Your duty as a soldier told you to follow her orders, but your duty as a family member told you to stay and protect her. And, I'm gonna be blunt here, I doubt you being there would really have made much of a difference, your highness." Ciaran said, his light blue eyes locked with Cornelia's indigo ones. "Sounds like a lose-lose situation to me."

"What do you mean?" The princess asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Simple. If you hadn't left, Marianne would still have been murdered, along with yourself. The result would have been the same, but with one extra dead body and one more grieving family. And it is likely that Euphemia would have suffered the same fate as Lelouch and Nunnally."

Cornelia's eyes widened in shock at the bluntness of the man before her, before she let out another sigh. The idea of Euphemia being in the same position as Marianne's children. It just filled her with a feeling of dread. She let a small smile come to her face.

"That was a brave thing to say, Ciaran." The princess said, reclining back in her chair.

The young man chuckled as he picked up the photo-frame. "Well, I'll be honest: I think I prefer seeing you angry rather than sad." This made the duo laugh, Ciaran falling silent as he stared intently at the photo. Specifically, the young boy with short black hair and violet eyes.

"Something wrong?" Cornelia asked, looking at the man in front of her.

"No, nothing is wrong," Ciaran said, giving the princess a sideways look. "I'm just... having an odd sense of deja-vu."

The purple-haired princess had opened her mouth to speak but, just at that, the twin doors opened loudly with a crash. Turning to look at the door, the photo-frame forgotten, Ciaran was surprised to see Guilford. Well, it wasn't surprising to see Guilford, but the look on his face was surprising: red-faced and a look of near-absolute terror on his face.

"Your highness!" The bespectacled knight said, just as the forms of Lady Ernst and Lady Enneagram appeared behind the man.

"Guilford!" Cornelia bellowed, standing up from her chair. "What is the meaning of..."

But Guilford interrupted her as he stepped forward. "Princess. We have a problem."

At that moment, both Ciaran's and Cornelia's faces dropped.

* * *

In the now familiar scene that was the bridge of the G-1 mobile base, Ciaran couldn't help but rub his fingers against his temples as he looked at the screen before him. The Lake Kawaguchi Hotel and Convention Centre was designed like an obelisk: a long thing needle that rested slap-bang in the middle of the lake, connected to three of the lake's shores via bridges, two of which were now raised and retracted. Ordered to do so by the Japanese Liberation Front which had taken the hotel and all of it's guests hostage.

There was only one word.

"FUBAR." Ciaran muttered loudly.

"You are not wrong." Guilford said, the knight standing next to him as they looked at the screen together.

"If I might be so bold as to speak freely here," The young Briton said, turning round to face away from the screen and the assembled room, "What the bloody hell was on-site security doing?" The last part of the sentence was punctuated by him spreading his arms wide.

"That's one of the things we're trying to find out presently, lieutenant." Darlton said, looking up from the table as various reports poured in. From what information could be gleaned, several dozen armed members of the JLF had taken the entire hotel staff and guests, well over a hundred people, hostage, in less than an hour. From what information the military had gathered, the hostages were being held in one of the hotels large storage room on one of the higher floors of the hotel.

So far, no demands had been made but it was suggested by the media that the terrorists were using the assault to get the attention of the world on them. Currently, the Britannian military had made two attempts on the hotel, one from the air and one from the lake, although thankfully the media hadn't been told about those. Both met with disaster. Now there was an uneasy stand-off as the Britannian military bided their time.

"Anyone have any other suggestions?" Cornelia said, sitting on her command throne.

"Both assaults from the air and the lake have met with failure, so we're looking for alternative routes presently, your highness." Darlton said, turning to face the princess.

"We're also going through the schematics of the hotel to try and find another route into the building." One of the other officers chimed in.

Cornelia nodded in agreement before she waved Ciaran to stand near her. Walking over, she made sure his back was to everyone as he beckoned him to bend down.

"I hate to ask, but did you have any incidents like this in your world, Ciaran?" She whispered.

The young man nodded before speaking. "Several, your highness. One of the best ones involved the British special forces storming an embassy after it was taken by terrorists."

"Anything we could use here?" Cornelia asked, her eyes never leaving the screen in front of her.

Ciaran shook his head ruefully. "Afraid not. The only reason that example worked is because the special forces used buildings adjacent to the target building, coming from the sides and the roof."

The princess nodded in understanding, sighing in near resignation before speaking more loudly. "Thank you for your input, Lieutenant. You may return to your post."

Bowing his head, Ciaran turned to walk back to the front of the bridge. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the cloak-clad forms of Dorothea and Nonnette leaning over a view screen, the two looking at it silently, before the dark-skinned Knight of Four stood up and turned around, an annoyed look plain on her face. She looked around the bridge as she ran a hand through her hair, before her eyes settled on the young lieutenant. Unsure of what to say, Ciaran did the only thing he could think of as he gave her a soft smile. This seemed to have the desired effect as the woman returned the smile before turning back to look at her view screen, the young man moving to take his place next to Guilford in front of the central view screen.

Standing next to the knight, he couldn't help but notice that his face set in a fierce scowl.

"Okay, everyone," Cornelia said, her voice causing everyone to turn and face her. "We have to resolve this situation and we have to do it quickly. So if anyone has any ideas, speak up now."

Nearly everyone was silent, save for a small group of officers murmuring to each other, before one stepped forward, a captain by his rank insignia. He had brown hair and a pair of half-moon glasses on his nose.

"Your majesty, myself and some of the other officers feel that a frontal assault would be the most direct and quickest way to resolving this situation."

The man didn't even blanch at his own idea, even when the entirety of the room fell into stunned silence at the man's comment. Ciaran's mouth was open slightly, while it looked like Cornelia was about to have an aneurysm.

"How bloody stupid can you be?"

Everyone was shocked at the sudden outburst, expecting it to have come from the princess, only to find that it had come from the normally laid back Nonette, her calm face now a mask of rage.

"My lady, please-" the officer began only to be interrupted by the Knight of Nine's rage.

"Don't give me that crap!" The champagne-haired woman snapped, using her right hand to punctuate her sentence. "A frontal assault? In a high-rise building, and against an enemy that has hostages and entrenched themselves in one of the buildings upper floors? How bloody stupid can you be?"

The woman's rage had silenced the officer, but Nonette was on a roll.

"You have been trained in one the world's top military academies, inducted in to the world's most powerful military, and you give THAT as a suggestion? How can a person who calls themselves a captain be such a complete and total fu-"

"Nonette!" The Knight of Four cut in, her voice cutting through her partner's tirade. All eyes were on Nonette now, as her face relaxed from an angry scowl to a more neutral expression, letting out a sigh as she returned her hand to her side.

"My apologies, your highness. That was uncalled for."

The princess nodded her head before speaking. "It's all right, Lady Enneagram. While your words may not have been the exact words I wanted to say, but the sentiment is the same. Captain Morris, your idea is pitiful. We will not risk the hostages through a frontal assault."

Admonished, the captain stepped back and fell into silence as a technical officer came to stand near the princess. Straining his ears, Ciaran thought he heard the man mention the 'Special Corps'. After the man stood up, the princess nodded before staring the young lieutenant.

"Lieutenant Forsyth, I believe that General Darlton and yourself spent a small amount of time with the Special Corps a few days ago, correct?"

"Yes, your highness."

"Then, for the duration of this mission, I give you the brevet rank of Captain and assign you as the liaison officer with the Special Corps for the duration of this mission. Do you have any objections, Captain?"

Ciaran couldn't help but smile proudly at the news, before standing stiffly at attention and snapping off a crisp salute. "None, at all your highness."

Looking over, he saw Darlton give him a fond smile as the giant nodded his head.

"Well? What are you waiting for, Captain?" Princess Cornelia's voice drew Ciaran's attention.

"Sorry, your highness." The newly brevetted Captain apologised, making his way out G-1s bridge and into the open air.

* * *

In one of the many underground parking structures that dotted the Tokyo Settlement, the new mobile base of one of Japan's still remaining terrorist groups sat silently, any passer-bys unable to guess that inside sat the great terrorist himself, Zero.

Sitting in the top floor of the double-decker vehicle, in a private office, Lelouch vi Britannia, the exiled Britannian prince living under the name of Lelouch Lamprouge, was troubled, drumming his fingers against the desk as he sat in the swivel chair. Below him he could hear the members of the group conversing, talking to each other as they moved boxes around their new base.

His mind was trouble for two reasons: the more prominent being the fact that his school friends had been taken captive by the JLF. Milly, Nina and Shirley had only gone to Lake Kawaguchi as a peaceful weekend retreat (although how peaceful things could be with Milly around was anyone's guess). Britannians they may be, but they were as innocent as children in the wider scope of the whole world. Currently, that was playing at the front of his mind, especially as he watched Shirley's father, Joseph Fenette, lament the hostage taking, urging the terrorists to release the hostages.

A futile gesture, but a gesture nonetheless.

He wanted to fight them, but it was too soon. They were nowhere near ready, and knowing Cornelia, she'd sacrifice the hostages.

"Then why doesn't she make her move?" The teenage terrorist said to himself.

Watching the newscast, his mind wandered to that event two days ago. Thinking about that event made him scowl under his featureless mask as his second source of frustration boiled to the surface.

* * *

" _Now I must be off. See ya." And with that, the man left Lelouch standing in the middle of the classroom, confused and angry._

" _What the hell just happened?!" He cried, grabbing his hair._

 _A soft tutting drew his attention, as he turned rapidly. There, standing in the doorway, was the green-haired witch he met in Shinjuku, her long hair tied up in twin pig-tails and wearing the same uniform as the other female students of Ashford Academy._

" _Even your defeat in Saitama didn't get you this upset, Lelouch." The witch said flatly, although Lelouch was sure he heard a subtle undertone of amusement._

" _It didn't work." The teenager simply stated._

" _What didn't?" C.C asked, cocking her eyebrow._

" _My geass!" Lelouch snapped, fully rounding on the immortal girl. "You said it would make anyone obey me without question. But it didn't work!"_

 _If the girl was surprised, she didn't show it._

" _My power has worked on everyone I have used it on, so why not him? Why didn't it work on that man, when I was close to fulfilling my goal?"_

 _CC shrugged._

" _I don't know." C.C. simply said._

 _The witch's simple response only angered Lelouch further, but he restrained himself, knowing he couldn't get anything further from the green-haired immortal._

* * *

"Zero?" The sound of an opening door and a girls voice drew Lelouch back in to the real world. "What will happen to the hostages?"

He didn't even find it necessary to turn around to face the speaker, for he already knew who it was. Kallen, the ace Knightmare pilot of Zero's band of terrorists, and the girl with fire in her heart who masqueraded as a sickly girl at Ashford Academy.

Muting his laptop, Zero spoke.

"Naturally. Eventually there will be no reason to keep those Britannians alive."

"... yeah. You're probably right." The sadness in Kallen's voice was almost palpable.

The door opened again as someone else walked it.

"Hey, Zero, I found these" Said the pompadour haired Ohgi, walking in carrying a cardboard box filled with zip-lock bags filled with black uniforms. "Should I hand them out to everyone? I mean, as far as gear goes, they're pretty hip. But we're just a resistance group though..."

"Wrong!" Zero said, turning his chair suddenly, startling Ohgi. "We're not a resistance group. Is that clear?"

"Well, then what are we?" The Japanese man asked, confusion plain on his face.

"What we are," Zero climbed out of his chair. "What we're trying to be. Is knight's for justice!"

* * *

 **AN: Oh, boy, did this take a while. Hehe.**

 **First off, let me apologise for the wait between the last chapter and this one. There are a few reasons for the long wait:**

 **1: I've been called up for jury duty, so I can't ignore that. And that's knocked my writing schedule for six.**

 **2: This chapter went through several revisions when I did manage to write it, since I had two scenes in mind. Both of which unfortunately didn't really pan out that well, and one that when I did write it, really ruined an idea I had for later on in the story. Plus, they made this chapter so long and I wanted it quite short..**

 **3: I've also been working on a slightly more serious project, so I've been doing a lot of research and draft-writing for that bit. As you can imagine, that takes up a lot of my time.**

 **4: I just had no idea how to do this. As I said, this story is based on Ripped Away, and I didn't want to copy that** **story so I tried something unique.**

 **So I tried my best and... well, if I succeeded or not, I'll leave that to you. Yeah, it's another cliff-hanger, I'm not sorry for that. But I wanted to include more of Lelouch in this story, since it was quite focused on myself, and I didn't want that. So in the future, I'm hoping to spread the narrative around some of the characters.**

 **So, as normal: read and enjoy. Until next time.**


	8. Chapter 8 redux

Night had fallen on Lake Kawaguchi and, like so many summer nights before, the air was hot and humid. Thankfully, having spent five years in Area 11 had conditioned Cecile and the rest of the Special Corps to the stickiness that such a night entailed. This mean that she could oversee the diagnostics of the Lancelot with Suzaku sitting in the pilot seat next to her. Even in his dress uniform, the teenager was barely phased by the weather. Although, she knew that growing up in Area 11 meant Suzaku had become more acclimatized to the environment than Cecile could ever hope to be.

"God damn, but I'm warm."

Well, all but one of their number was used to the heat, Cecile chuckling as the Japanese boy smiled with a roll of his eyes at Captain Forsyth's outburst. Turning round, the duo saw Ciaran wiping the back of his forearm against his forehead, standing near one of the large control banks in the Special Corps vehicle. The man's maroon jacket and bulletproof vest were sitting on a nearby chair, leaving him in his trousers and under-shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled above his elbows. In his hand, he carried a large water-bottle he'd bought from a nearby convenience store.

"Are you doing all right, sir?" The teenage boy asked kindly, looking over his shoulder.

"Give me the heat or give me the wet, Suzaku," Ciaran called up to the boy, "I can handle both on their own well enough, but a combination of both is just horrid."

This caused a collective chuckle from all the Camelot members present. And it was good that he was doing so, Cecile thought. For the past few hours, an uneasy stalemate had gone on, ever since the Britannian military had sent down three Sutherlands into the large access tunnel under the street leading to the hotel. It had been a simple enough plan: go under the terrorist's feet, strike from the rear and take them by surprise.

But like all of the best laid plans, it had been undone by an unknown variable. The JLF had brought up an unknown weapon. According to command, it had been some kind of linear cannon made from the hulls of several Knightmares. It had wiped out all three units in a matter of seconds.

After that, the Britannian military had done little else but wait. A message from General Darlton to the captain told them to make sure the Lancelot was waiting on standby.

"Just in case," the message had stated, and that's what they were doing now: those crew members who were attached to the Lancelot were running all the various tests that were necessary, while the others sat around, doing what they could do to stave off boredom.

It was a classic example of the most basic and oldest military axiom: hurry up and wait.

And the tension was bearing down on everyone.

Returning to her work, Cecile barely had a chance to glance at from the mechanisms in the cockpit as she heard someone climbing the ladder on the platform to reach the top. Both she and the pilot were taken aback as Ciaran climbed over the lip of the platform, hauling himself up before sitting on the metal, leaning back against one of the railings with one leg dangling over the side.

"Bugger me." The young man muttered to himself before taking a swig from the water bottle.

"If the weather's bothering you so much, maybe you should go in to the G-1?" The indigo-haired woman asked.

"I'd just get in the way of the senior officers." The captain admitted with a frown. "Plus, I don't really want to run in to Lloyd on my own."

Cecile nodded in understanding. The eccentric scientist still had a chip on his shoulder from when Ciaran had questioned the choice of colour for the Lancelot, and that only seemed to have been exacerbated with the news that the Briton had been made liaison officer with the Special Corps. Granted, Lloyd wasn't a particularly dangerous man. It was just better to err on the side of caution, just to be safe.

"Besides," Ciaran said, crossing his legs and leaning forward. "I wanted to check up on Suzaku here. You've been very quiet for a while now, lad. What's up?" The last part was said with a genuine concern that matched the captain's frown.

Suzaku just carried on pressing the various buttons in the cockpit that needed to be pushed.

"Those teenage hostages are friends of yours from school, aren't they?" Cecile asked, before her voice became more chipper. "They're still negotiating, so let's not give up hope."

"I have faith in the system," Suzaku replied, a little too flatly for either officer's taste. "I prefer the logic of systems to individualistic emotions."

Ciaran and Cecile shared a concerned look, with the man opening his mouth to speak before a gasp from Suzaku interrupted them.

"Miss Cecile, Captain Forsyth. Look."

Drawing closer, Cecile gasped while Ciaran swore quietly to himself at what they saw on the Lancelot's main view screen: five men were standing on the roof of the hotel, four of them in olive drab uniforms holding submachine guns while one was in civilian dress, his arms bound to sides, stood on the lip of the roof.

"That's..." Cecile started.

"Don't do it." Suzaku said, fear in this voice.

"God-damn it." Ciaran swore.

One of the terrorists stepped forward, and pushed the man in the back.

Only two sounds came to Cecile's ears as she watched the man plummet to the ground: Suzaku screaming a short but loud "No!" and Ciaran taking in a sharp intake of breath before turning and delivering a kick to the railing enough to make the platform shake. Cecile could only put her head into her hands.

* * *

Cornelia grit her teeth together with such force that if her mind wasn't clouded with rage, then she'd have been certain that Darlton and Guilford, possibly even the entire bridge of the G-1, could hear her. But thankfully, all their attention was focused on the view-screen before them, which was currently broadcasting a video of the terrorist's leader, Lieutenant-Colonel Kusakabe.

"Our demands have gone unanswered," The goatee-ed man said, sitting in a chair with his hands folded over the pommel of an antique katana. "Therefore we will throw one hostage off the roof every thirty minutes until our terms are met. For the sake of the hostages, the negotiations better be in good faith."

The tech specialists weren't able to tell if the message had been pre-recorded beforehand, but it didn't matter to the princess. Just the fact they did the act was enough for the princess.

"Guilford, Darlton! Come with me." Cornelia snapped, striding out of the room tailed by her two adjutants as they travelled down a hallway.

"This is their warning? Barbarians." Darlton growled.

"For now, we could negotiate to get the women and children out..." Guilford chimed in, his voice still stoically calm before Cornelia cut in.

"Forget it!" The princess snapped. "If you give into their conditions even once, you're simply legitimatising terrorism."

"Princess!" A voice cried out behind the trio. Turning around, Cornelia wasn't too surprised to see Dorothea and Nonnette running up to them. The pair of knights had been outside, Dorothea overseeing the dispersal of the APCs, while Nonette had... well, Cornelia wasn't really sure what Nonette had been doing. But wherever they had been, they must have either seen or heard the incident.

"Princess," Dorothea said, catching up to the trio, "We just saw. Is there any..."

"No," Cornelia cut in, "They made no mention of her, so it's safe to say they haven't found out Euphemia is among the guests."

"Since her name isn't officially entered in the guest's register, it's unlikely they'll know she's there." Darlton chimed in.

Placing her hand over her forehead, Cornelia let out a shuddering breath. "... a rock and a hard place."

Guilford seemed to be the only one who had heard the princess' statement. "Pardon, your highness?"

"Just remembering a conversation I had with Mr Forsyth earlier today, Guilford." The princess said, letting her hand drop to her waist before striding off down the corridor addressing the group behind her. "Nevertheless, our original plan remains unchanged. We will not use lethal force to rescue the hostages."

"Yes, your highness." The two men and two women replied, following Cornelia.

They had not taken more than a dozen steps before the sound of running reached their ears.

"Viceroy! It's Zero!" A soldier in a grey-blue uniform rushed in through a side corridor. "We've just received a message from Zero."

The two Knights of the Round shared a surprised look, while Darlton and Guilford shared a worried look. Cornelia just scowled.

' _A rock and a hard place_ ,' She thought to herself. ' _You were far from wrong, Ciaran._ '

* * *

The requisitioned news van trundled down the road at a leisurely pace, Lelouch having geassed the driver and news crew that originally owned the van into giving him their vehicle. Standing on the top of the roof, he didn't bother holding onto the railing before him. It wouldn't do for Zero, the man who murdered Clovis and who had the Britannians of Area 11 cowering in fear, to be seen holding on to the rail of the van like a young child riding their first roller-coaster.

Underneath his feet, Kallen and Ohgi sat in the drivers compartment while the rest of his group were in the main hold of the van. He knew they would be questioning his choice of approach, but he paid them little mind. This had to be done, and this way. He would have it done no other way.

Ahead of him, an array of floodlights flared into life, bathing the news van in a harsh light. He mentally congratulated himself on having the visor of his helmet made out out of the material it was, or he would surely have been blinded. Looking ahead, he saw a quartet of Sutherlands lining the road, their large guns held in their hands, which were levelled directly at the approaching van. They did nothing to obstruct the van but, as the van passed them, they kept their guns trained on the vehicle as it continued on it's journey.

Soon, the bridge leading to the hotel was in sight, with a clear path to the building. But that wasn't what caused a smile to grace Lelouch's face. Preceded by the screech of land-spinners on concrete, a trio of purple Knightmares, Gloucester frames Lelouch reminded himself, rolled in to his path. Armed with long, wicked looking lances, two of them wore deep-blue cloaks over their shoulders. But Lelouch's attention was focused on the unit in the middle. It had a pair of long horn-like appendices protruding from the side of it's 'head', while over it's vibrant, ornamental purple armour, it bore a a large white cloak.

' _Cornelia_ ,' Lelouch thought to himself, ' _Much as I'd like to get you back right now, you're more useful to me alive._ _If you do what I predict, I won't need to use my geass._ '

Soon, the panel on the back of Cornelia's Knightmare opened, and the stern visage of his elder half-sister appeared. But that wasn't what surprised the young terrorist. Beside the feet of his sibling's Gloucester, two women appeared. Both were tall, wearing white uniforms reminiscent of Nineteenth-century cavalry uniforms, and trailed by two trailing cloaks. One was a dark-skinned woman with her black hair in a single braid and a blue and gold cloak over he shoulders clutching a submachine gun, while the other, a woman with hair the colour of champagne and a purple and gold cloak held a pistol in her hand. Both women levelled their weapons at Zero.

"Knights of the Round?" Lelouch said to himself. "Here?"

"Well, well. We meet again, Zero," The stern voice of Cornelia drew Lelouch back to the task at hand. "Are you a member of the Japan Liberation Front? Or perhaps you intend to help us. Regardless, our concerns take priority over yours at the moment."

"So for the death of my half-brother, Clovis," The princess called out, before drawing her ever present sword-pistol, which she levelled at Zero, "I will take my revenge right here!"

The featureless mask didn't show it, but Lelouch steeled himself. Knights of the Round or no, his plan had to go ahead.

"Cornelia," The masked terrorist spoke, his voice easily travelling to the princess' ears, "Which would you choose: Clovis, who is dead? Or Euphemia, who is alive?"

A grin came to the young man's face as he saw Cornelia recoil at his words. So, his suspicions were correct. Cornelia's love for her sister would be her downfall.

"It's within my power to save Euphemia!" Zero declared boldly, his voice making the Viceroy scowl.

"What do you mean?" Cornelia replied, her scowl deepening, while below her, the two Knights shared a confused glance.

The smile on Lelouch's face broadened.

* * *

"Zero, you say?" Kusakabe asked, getting up from his chair.

"Yes, sir," One of his junior officers said, "Word came from the Britannian army."

Kusakabe strode over to the large window beside him. The room he'd chosen as his headquarters for this operation was perfectly positioned to overlook the lone bridge connecting the hotel to the shore, but had enough height that if the Britannians tried using force against him, then the hostages would be in danger too. Looking down over the bridge, a smile came to his face at what he saw: Zero truly was here, riding atop a TV camera van, which was making it's way down the bridge towards the hotel.

"Lieutenant-Colonel?" Another of his officers asked. "What do you want us to do?"

Kusakabe was silent for a moment before a smile came to his face.

"Let him in, and bring him directly to me." The man ordered, not taking his eyes away from the van that was drawing closer to the hotel. Even as an aide spoke into a hand-held radio to contact the guards, he did not take his eyes off of the masked figure approaching the building.

Soon, the gate to the hotel opened and the van rolled inside and out of Kusakabe's view. But that mattered little to Kusakabe as his smile only grew in to a toothy grin.

* * *

Lelouch's smile grew wider as he climbed down from the top of the van. Even the presence of the armed members of the JLF did little to his mood.

"Zero?" One of the men asked, a sergeant judging by the pins on his sleeve.

"Yes." The masked terrorist replied.

"I've been instructed to take you to Lieutenant-Colonel Kusakabe at once."

' _All tasks at hand have been completed. Excellent_.' He thought to himself before he spoke out loud. "Very well, then. But I'll be taking one of my guards with me. Kallen."

At the sound of her name being mentioned, the red-headed girl's back straightened. "Me?"

"I'll have to confirm it with the Lieutenant-Colonel." The sergeant replied as he drew a hand-held radio from his belt and began relaying the request.

The seconds ticked away as the sergeant conversed with Kusakabe before he nodded and clipped the radio back to his belt.

"All right. The Lieutenant-Colonel's given the all clear. You and the girl will follow me, while the rest of your group are to stay with your vehicle."

"Of course." Zero replied, before he and Kallen followed the JLF member into a nearby elevator. As the man pressed the button for the elevator to climb, all Lelouch could do under his mask could smile. Even though he knew he was possibly walking into the jaws of hell, all he could was smile.

* * *

Standing in the open cockpit of her Gloucester, Cornelia's grip on the roof tightened, while outwardly she showed no other sign of emotion. The arrival of Zero made the situation all the more dangerous.

"Princess, what are you doing?" She heard Nonette call out to her from below.

"Advancing our plans." She replied, before keying her headpiece to a set frequency. "Captain Forsyth?"

There was silence for a split second before the man replied. "Reading you loud and clear, your highness. What are your orders?"

"Tell Asplund I want the Lancelot ready to go against the cannon in the access tunnel. The pilot is to carry on with Plan Gamma. Understand?"

There was silence for a second, although Cornelia was certain she could hear the young man take a deep breath before exhaling.

"Understood, your highness. Forsyth, over and out." The man replied before the headpiece clicked off.

"Darlton, Guilford," Cornelia called out to her nearby knights who, like her, were also standing in the open cockpits of their Gloucesters. "I want all combat and medical teams on standby. We are finishing this tonight. I am understood?"

"Yes, your highness!" The two men replied before re-entering their Knightmares and speeding off to go about their work, leaving the princess to stare down the bridge at the hotel.

* * *

To say Ciaran was uneasy at the current moment would be probably the largest understatement of his life at the moment. Even his impromptu entrance into the Viceroy's palace didn't match up to the current moment. And it wasn't due to his body's current position.

He was leaning backwards far enough that he was certain he'd soon hear a snap as his spine broke if it wasn't for the railing he was standing in front of. His back was in danger of breaking because leaning close to him, his face mere centimetres away from his own, was the smiling face of Lloyd Asplund.

"Say that again, captain?" The professor said, his mouth forming into something similar to a cat's mouth. Just without the teeth. Clearing his throat, and trying his best to avoid his desire to head-butt the scientist, Ciaran spoke with a voice as possibly calm as he could manage.

"You heard what I said, professor."

"Wonderful!" The professor called out, ignoring the fact that he had just yelled right in to the young man's face. "I want to thank you for that lovely order!"

"Don't mention it." Ciaran muttered to himself as Lloyd pulled himself up to his full height.

"Did you hear that, Suzaku?" The professor said, turning to look up at the Lancelot with it's pilot seated inside. "You've got the green light. They want you to charge right in to that linear cannon in the tunnel!"

Murmurs of bewilderment sounded from the assembled crew, and some even shot some dirty looks at the young Briton as Cecile tried to protest against the order. But all those protests were silenced as the Lancelot's pilot spoke.

"Miss Cecile," The young man spoke flatly, "I'm ready. Please let me do this. Even if I'm just a decoy, if it means I can get the hostages out, I'll do it."

Closing his eyes, Ciaran let out a sigh before speaking. "All right then, Suzaku. Go and get changed into your pilot suit. You've got two minutes before the operation starts."

"Yes sir." The Japanese teenager replied, climbing out of the cockpit and saluting before climbing down from the Lancelot and running off to get changed.

The boy came back in less than a minute, dressed in the white and black pilot suit, before climbing into the cockpit block of the Lancelot. Soon, a small crane arrived and hooked the Knightmare and began transporting it to the hole in to the access tunnel. As it was lowered, Cecile began explaining the mission parameters to the teenager, but Ciaran didn't pay any attention to her. His stomach was in his mouth and he was certain he'd vomit if he spoke. He felt awful.

Suzaku was charging headlong into the maw of a cannon that had already claimed three lives. And the boy was doing it so gladly.

'… All in the valley of Death, rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade. Charge for the guns."...'

"Captain Forsyth?"

Cecile's voice shook him out of his reverie. Looking over, he saw the older woman looking back at him with a concerned expression. The realization hit that he had spoken out loud, although thankfully, only Cecile had heard him.

"It's nothing, Cecile," He replied, turning to look back the screen showing the layout of the tunnel before him. "Let's just get this over with."

Cecile nodded as she turned to look at the screen before her, continuing to talk to the Lancelot's pilot. "Remember, Suzaku, you will be using the VARIS to destroy the foundation of the building. Set the Impact Rail to Anti-Materiel level 3."

"Roger." Came as the only reply from the pilot.

Looking ahead, Ciaran focused on the timer counting down.

50 seconds remaining.

Racking his memory, Ciaran thought back to what Plan Gamma entailed. It was a simple plan, one of the oldest military tactics available: undermining. Shoot away at the foundations of the building, let the hotel sink into the lake and rescue the hostages. Simple, but things were hardly ever simple when the military was involved.

"Count down to mission start in eight... seven... six..." Cecile read off the screen in front of her, while the newly promoted captain took a deep breath.

"ME boost." Suzaku replied.

"Lancelot... launch!" Cecile called, and Ciaran watched in amazement as the special Knightmare took off at a speed he never imagined a Knightmare could accomplish down the underground passage.

Soon a flashing 'warning' sign came just as the amplified sound of the hidden linear cannon came roaring down the tunnel. Ciaran gripped the desktop in front of him tightly just a blast of super-compressed air came out of the entrance into the tunnel, the force knocking anyone unprepared off their feet. Even his own tight grip didn't help him, as Ciaran soon found himself, for the second time in as many days, flat on his arse. Only this time, his ears were ringing something awful. Looking around, he could see Lloyd and Cecile talking, although he couldn't hear what they were saying.

Struggling to his feet, Ciaran had less than a second to check on the progress of the Lancelot as another blast of air knocked him on to the floor again. What he saw was good though: the first blast hadn't taken down the Lancelot. Taking shelter behind the back of computers, he couldn't help but smile broadly.

If the next three cannon blasts hadn't come, he'd have heard himself exclaiming, "Go on, my son!"

* * *

If Cornelia hadn't been paying attention to the bridge, she would certainly be paying attention to it now, as a large explosion rocked the world. A geyser of water erupted underneath the bridge, followed by an explosion a split-second after which lifted a segment of the causeway into the air.

Straining to see through the smoke and steam, the princess saw a sight that both saw her heart leap and also strike her with confusion: the stark white, humanoid shape of the Lancelot falling to earth, a long-barrelled, blue rifle clutched in it's hands. Aiming the rifle, the white Knightmare fired off four shots right at the foundation of the hotel.

"The Eleven!" Cornelia called out in glee as she watched the hotel slowly sinking in to the water. "He really did it. Guilford, now!"

Guilford's reply was lost to her though as she saw something that made her heart drop. The tall structure was racked with large explosions. What should have been a semi-controlled demolition soon turned in to something horrible as the hotel's top began listing to the side, the internal strength of the building being compromised.

"Oh, God no." Her Knight replied as he too watched the building collapse.

"Euphie!" Cornelia's cry was lost in the resulting roar as the sound of the explosions merged in to one sound, the building coming crashing down in to the water.

* * *

Ciaran felt like his stomach was going to force itself out of it's stomach as he watched what happened.

"Euphemia." He muttered to himself as his body took several steps forward, acting on autopilot. All other sounds had faded out, even the ringing in his ears was gone. He couldn't hear the surprised cries of the Special Corps, nor could he hear Cecile calling out to Suzaku over the comm-link. All he was focused on was the building literally falling to ruin before his eyes.

The steps forward quickened in pace, going from a walk to a sprint in a second, the young man brushing aside anyone in front of him. Soldier and civilian alike, he barged past them, even knocking aside a camera crew who were filming the scene. He wasn't aware of anything, so wholly focused on the hotel, that even loosing his footing on the small embankment on the lake's edge and the resultant tumble down the small slope didn't cause him to break stride until he reached the lake and plunged in to the water up to his knees.

"Euphemia." He muttered to himself again, before calling the same name again. But the waves rippling against his legs gave no response, just the creeping silence as the tumultuous sounds of the hotel's destruction faded away.

His throat clenched up as the reality hit him: she was gone. The lovely, pink haired girl he'd met less than a few weeks ago, the girl who had made him, a complete stranger, feel like he had never left home, was gone. He didn't try and fight the tears that came to his eyes as he felt the strength evaporate from his legs, plunging his knees in to the water, the young man kneeling in the cold water.

A sudden gust of wind blew from the seaward side of the lake, brushing away the lingering smoke to reveal the ruins of the hotel.

And a immaculate boat. With Zero standing on the prow.

"My dear Britannians, have no fear!" The masked figure spoke, his voice amplified by an unseen speaker. "All of the hostages from the hotel are safe and sound. I, Zero, return them to you unharmed!"

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Ciaran peered through the smoke. Sure enough, he could see the forms of a large number of small inflatable rafts floating around the yacht. His sorrow was soon replaced by anger. The masked bastard was in the perfect position to take the newly released hostages back in to captivity if the military tried anything.

Floodlights snapped in to life, bathing the yacht and the other surrounding craft in bright, stark light, revealing Zero in his fullness, surrounded on both flanks by what appeared to seven other people, all in black uniforms.

"People! Fear us, or rally behind us!" The masked man called out. "We, are the Black Knights! We of the Black Knights stand with all those who have no weapons to wield. Regardless of whether they be Elevens, or Britannians. The Japan Liberation Front cowardly took innocent Britannian civilians hostage, and they mercilessly executed them. It was a wanton and meaningless act, therefore they have been punished. Just as former Viceroy Clovis was punished for ordering the slaughter of countless unarmed Elevens, we could not stand by..."

Ciaran lost focus on Zero, his eyes furiously scanning the number of rafts, looking for any sign of Euphemia, now standing up in the water.

"Those of you with power, fear us. Those of you without it, rally behind us. We, the Black Knights, shall be the ones who stand in judgement of this world!"

Zero concluded his speech and the yacht slowly worked it's way out from between the smaller rafts, which had begun making their way to the shore. Behind him, Ciaran could hear someone calling down to him while someone else was calling out for assistance. He ignored them though as he waded further in to the water, the water washing over his chest now.

The rafts were coming closer to the shore now, Ciaran taking quick glances in each boat for any sign of Euphemia. None of them contained the princess, so Ciaran pushed them behind him towards the shore where, out of the corner of his eye, he could see soldiers wading in to bring the boats to land.

He was getting desperate as the number of boats dwindled and there was no sign of the pink haired girl.

"Euphemia!" He called out as he pushed another boat filled with teenage school girls past him.

"Ciaran!" A soft voice called out to him. Turning, Ciaran's face lit up. There, in a raft slowly coming towards him, was Princess Euphemia. Alive and unharmed, her two bodyguards seated behind her.

"Euphemia!" He called out again as he plunged further in to the water as the raft drew closer. Reaching the side, he grabbed on to the side of the inflatable. "You're alive."

"Yes, I'm okay, Ciaran." Euphemia said sweetly, looking down at the Briton as he drew the raft closer to the shore. "Will you help me out of this?"

"Of course, my lady." Ciaran replied, as the boat reached dry land. Reaching up, he offered his hand to the princess, which she took. As she was climbing out, the young man reached up with his other arm, which he put under Euphemia's legs, lifting her fully out of the boat and above the water line before he began wading towards the shore, causing her to squeak in surprise. By now, the shoreline was beginning to fill with the rescued hostages, soldiers and TV news crews clamouring to get an interview with the hostages.

"This could be a problem." Euphemia said with a slight giggle.

"Indeed." Ciaran said with a smile as he put the princess down on the ground, his eyes focused on the crowd just being held back by the ranks of soldiers. Reaching down, he linked one of his hands with Euphemia's in a firm but gentle grip.

"Keep a good grip on my hand and stay close." He said as they began moving towards the crowd.

* * *

"Lieutenant Ross!" General Darlton roared, his voice easily carrying over the din of the people straining to try and talk to the members of the Britannian high command. "Keep those paparazzi back!"

The selected officer saluted smartly before running off to join the soldiers at the barricades as they worked to keep the civilians away from the G-1. Darlton had anticipated that the various news crews would try and get an interview with either himself or Princess Cornelia, but with the arrival of Zero on the scene, his estimates on what would happen had been thoroughly kick to the curb.

"General Darlton!" Cornelia called out to him as she walked towards him, flanked by the Knights of Four and Nine. "How serious is it"

"Hard to say, your highness." The scarred giant replied, knowing the princess was referring to the crowd of people. "We might need to draw in some more soldiers."

The princess nodded as she cast her gaze over the crowd before her.

"No sign of Princess Euphemia yet." Darlton said sadly, which caused a deep frown to appear on Cornelia's face.

Reaching forward, Nonette placed a hand on Cornelia's shoulder, a sincere smile on her face.

"Don't worry. I'm sure she'll turn up."

Darlton and Dorothea could only nod with the Knight of Nine's sentiment.

"Make way! Move aside!" A voice called out, drawing the four adults attention. Turning, they were surprised at what they saw. A group of soldiers, some in the drab grey of the regular Britannian army, while some were in the orange uniforms of the Special Corps, had formed a walking barrier which moved slowly towards the barrier surrounding the G-1 base. Reaching the barriers, the group parted revealing Captain Forsyth and Princess Euphemia, very much alive and well, grasping his hand tightly.

"Euphemia!" Cornelia called out, the joy incapable of being hidden from her voice as her sister rushed forward to her. Ciaran wasn't close behind, jogging to keep pace with the young princess. Darlton couldn't help but smile as the two princesses hugged.

"You're a mess." Darlton heard Nonette say, and turning, he smiled as he saw what she was referring to. Ciaran was standing there in his Royal Guardsman uniform as usual, only this time his uniform was drenched, soaked up to his chest in water, turning the colours a darker shade of what they were.

Darlton didn't say anything as he put a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"You saw what I did, I take it?" Ciaran asked, his face impassive as Darlton nodded.

"I don't blame you for it though," Darlton said with a shrug and a smile. "I'm sure someone was bound to do it."

This made Ciaran smile, even as he watched Cornelia take off her cloak and wrap it around her younger sister before they walked towards the G-1.

"Lieutenant Forsyth," The Viceroy called back, looking at the young man with a stern face. "I want you to give a full debriefing about the events tonight. And a change of uniform."

Darlton patted the young man on the shoulder as his posture slumped forward. "Well there goes my promotion then." He heard Ciaran mutter, which caused him to chuckle as the duo made their way in to the G-1 followed by the Knights of the Round. Behind them, the noise of the clamouring crowds continued, but they paid them little mind.

* * *

 **AN: Okay, so this is the redux version of chapter 8. As some people pointed out, it was short, far too short, and I agree. I did not like how short it was myself.**

 **So here is chapter 8 in full. All 8 pages of it. As someone mentioned, with it being essentially a retelling of the arc, it can be a bit difficult to get it right without just copying the episode verbatim. So I cut some things down (Zero/Lelouch's speech for one) and replaced some of the dialogue with some of my own design.**

 **So... read and enjoy (again).**

 **ETA: Wasn't sure if this update was coming through, so I deleted the chapter and re-uploaded it. Just to be save.**


	9. Chapter 9

After the Lake Kawaguchi incident, things had settled down somewhat in to some semblance of order in the palace. Euphemia and Ciaran still spent their time at her desk going through paperwork, although every now and again, Cornelia would drop by to "check up on her younger sister" as she said it. The visits were unannounced (with one memorable visit resulting in the confiscation of Euphemia's hidden ration of biscuits, much to the young pinkette's chagrin). Although they were a shade better than when Lady Nonette dropped by unannounced, which usually resulted in both young people being flustered and red-faced after no small amount on inappropriate touching on the older woman's behalf.

But this annoyance was nothing compared to the feelings that were swirling around in Cornelia's mind. Sitting at her desk, she drummed her fingers in an irregular tattoo. The fact that her younger sister had been taken hostage at the hotel just proved how truly lacking Euphemia's current protection was. Looking down, her eyes ran down the page in the open folder before her. The piece of paper contained a list of various people, all people from a military background or a background in the police. All people Cornelia hoped could protect her younger sister.

"Your tea, your highness." Guilford's voice drew her attention, as her Knight placed a saucer and steaming cup of tea on the desk next to the folder. Looking over, the bespectacled knight let out a light sigh.

"Think I'm going too far, Guilford?" Cornelia asked, bringing the cup of tea to her lips but not taking her eyes off the folder before her.

"It's ultimately your choice, your highness," Guilford said with a shrug. "Although I do not really think she would appreciate being followed by someone twice her age."

Cornelia nodded softly at her knight's logic: practically all of the men and woman in the folder were at least ten years her senior. Granted, Euphemia could get along with practically anyone, but Cornelia knew she would still feel uncomfortable around that person if they followed her everywhere.

Suddenly, a thought popped in to her mind.

"Guilford?" Cornelia asked, reclining in her chair. "Do you know where Lieutenant Forsyth is?"

"I believe that General Darlton was taking him to the garage to give him training with the Knightmares, your majesty. I know the general and Lady Dorothea have been discussing it for a while now."

Cornelia nodded as she took another sip of tea. "It seems that Darlton has been stepping up our young friend's training, no?"

Guilford nodded in reply. It was true that after the hotel incident that the General had started increasing his amount of time training with Ciaran, shifting from simple firearms drills, to exercising in various equipment, laps and so forth. He had even built a small obstacle course in a quiet corner of the garage for the young man to train with.

"A bit early for Darlton to be training him on the Knightmare though, don't you think?" The princess asked.

"I would agree with you, your highness," Guilford replied, inclining his head to the side, "I did suggest that they first use the simulator, but Darlton was quite insistent on teaching him with the actual machine instead."

Cornelia let a fond smile come to her face. "Darlton has always had a very hands-on approach to training."

"That he has, your highness." Guilford nodded in agreement, as the princess finished her tea quickly, setting the empty china cup on it's saucer before closing the folder. As she stood, Guilford hurried to fetch her cloak, which she donned quickly.

"Come along, Guilford." The Princess said, walking around her desk before striding towards the door.

"May I ask where we're going, your highness?" Her knight asked as he came up beside her.

"To make sure our young friend does not get too seriously injured." Cornelia said with a small smirk.

* * *

Standing outside one of the changing rooms in the garage, Darlton was leaning beside the door to one of the rooms. He had changed from the uniform of Cornelia's Royal Guard to his pilot suit. While it was more simple than his guardsman's uniform, the general's pilot suit was still elaborate enough to mark him from other pilots: dark maroon, with black segments on it's chest and sides with similar gold filigree down his arms and on his chest.

Turning slightly, he rapped his knuckle against the door.

"You nearly finished in there, Ciaran?" He asked.

"Almost, sir." The young man replied, his voice slightly muffled by the door. "Just... just having a wee bit of trouble getting it on, sir."

Darlton couldn't help but chuckle as the sound of grunts and what could only be described as a bad attempt at tap dancing came through the door, before an exclamation of "Got it!" sounded, soon followed by the sound of the person inside stepping out of the room.

Turning around, Darlton couldn't help but smile. Standing before him in a drab green and black pilot suit, he had to admit that the young man looked more the part of an old tank crewman than a Knightmare pilot. Even if Ciaran's head only came to the general's shoulder, his stocky build coupled with his wild head of curly, dark brown hair and seemingly permanent dark circles under his eyes gave him an slightly unpleasant image, he had to admit, but the young man's round face and bright blue-green eyes, coupled with his pleasant demeanour, made him easy to get along with.

Fixing a pair of gloves over his hands, Ciaran gave the general a wry smile.

"What's so funny?" The general asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Nothing, sir," Ciaran replied, letting his hands drop to his sides as he shook his head, "It's just that I'm glad that I got the suit I did. I don't think I could deal with wearing something like what you've got on, especially when it's as tight as it is."

Darlton chuckled at that as he nodded his head. "Yes, they are a bit uncomfortable the first few times. You'll get used to it, I promise." He gestured down the hallway behind him, before the duo made their way down the corridor to the garage underneath the Viceroy's palace.

Walking in to the garage proper, Darlton and Ciaran passed many of the technicians and mechanics as they made their way through the large area. As they passed them by, the tech crews gave the former crisp, sharp salutes while they exchanged friendly hellos with the latter. Rank aside, Darlton knew that the duo had been down to the garage enough times, and that Ciaran had managed to talk to many of the various technicians enough that they were comfortable around the young lieutenant.

"What you up to, lieutenant?" A mustachioed engineer asked as the duo approached him and his crew members.

"Going to have a go in a Knightmare." The lieutenant said cheerfully, slamming his right fist in his open left palm, which caused a small ripple of laughter from the surrounding mechanics.

"General? Any chance you can not do too much damage?" Another engineer asked, smiling at the giant of a man.

"No promises." Darlton said with a sincere smile as he and his training partner walked past towards the group to the parked Knightmare frames.

"So which frame am I going to be using, general?" Ciaran asked as the duo approached the rank of parked Sutherlands and a small selection of Gloucesters.

"We'll start with the Sutherland," The general said, "Technically, there's nothing truly different between it and a Gloucester with regards to the control layout, although the Gloucester is made more of close-quarters combat, so it's made for pilots with a faster reaction time. So you'll be starting off with a Sutherland, just so we can get a handle on how good you are."

Ciaran nodded in understanding, before his eyes widened as a technician ran up to them.

"Hello?" Darlton heard the young man say to himself quizzically as the man came to a halt before them, saluting the pair.

"General, sir. We have a problem." The man said, red faced and out of breath.

"What do you mean?" Darlton asked the man.

"It's lady..." The man began before he was interrupted by a sound that made both officers' backs go rigid.

"Well, hello." Nonette's distinctive voice purred out, a sultry tone added to her voice as she appeared from thin air behind the technician. Both Darlton's and Ciaran's eyes opened in surprise at her outfit: it was a white pilot suit, with a large black segment that went across her chest and ran down to her naval in a vague 'T' shape. The forearms of her sleeves were the same purple as her cloak and, to neither man's surprise, her holster was belted to her hip.

"Can we help you with something, Lady Enneagram?" Darlton asked, his posture remaining rigid as the Knight of Nine advanced towards them. Shifting his eyes quickly, Darlton mentally swore at the technician who had stopped them for running away so quickly.

"Well, I might have heard you talking to Dorothea about training our... young friend here," She said, fixing Ciaran with half-lidded, sideways glance before continuing, "And I thought to myself, 'I think I'm getting a bit out of practice'. So, I invited myself along." The last part of the sentence was said with such a cheerful attitude, Darlton couldn't help but roll his eyes.

The general knew that just trying to force Nonette to back down was next to impossible. The woman had a stubbornness that would have even made Prince Schneizel back down. But you don't get to become a general by exclusively using brute force.

"Lady Nonette," Darlton said, putting a placating tone in to his voice. "I appreciate the gesture, and I'm sure Lieutenant Forsyth does as well. Right?"

Ciaran nodded his head vigorously.

"Right," Darlton continued, "But as I'm sure you heard with my previous conversation with Lady Dorothea, this will be his first time in a Knightmare. And, I'm sorry for being blunt, but you do have a tendency for going a bit over the top."

The champagne-haired woman just rolled her eyes at the general. "Oh, you sound just like Dorothea and Nellie."

The Knight shifted her posture to put her weight on her left leg, which tilted up the right side of her hip, where she rested her hand on, before fixing Darlton with a bored expression.

"I'm sorry, my lady, but it's true," The general said with a hint of sadness in his voice, although anyone who knew the man well would know that mentally, he was punching the air in joy. "Now if you'll excuse us." The man began walking forward. But he didn't expect his progress to be stopped by a white gloved hand inches from his chest.

"Hold it, Darlton," Nonette spoke up, her voice still cheerful, but also with a hint of force that Darlton would have to be deaf not to miss. "You know I'm a Knight of the Round, right?"

"Of course." The general replied, praying that his conversation was not going where he thought it was going.

"And I have been given power by the Emperor himself, right?"

"Of course." Yes. This conversation was going exactly where Darlton thought it was going.

Sighing, Darlton put his hands against his hips before turning to look at the young man beside him.

"Sorry, Ciaran," He said apologetically. "But I can't go against orders from a Knight of the Round."

Ciaran looked between the general and the Knight before him before he sighed himself and shrugged.

"Ah, well. It happens," The young man said with a smile that surprised the general. "Besides, who knows? It could be fun."

Darlton did his best to suppress the grimace that was coming to his face. The lad had no idea what he was getting himself in to.

"All right then," General Darlton said, inconspicuously managing to restore his stern demeanour. "Ciaran, you'll find your Sutherland down in Bay Six. The one with all the tech crews on it."

"Bay Six. Got it." Ciaran said with a nod before setting off towards his destination.

As he passed Nonette, Darlton was certain that he saw the woman lean down and turn her head slightly as the young man walked away. The general's suspicion was confirmed as Nonette pulled herself back to her full height with a devious grin on her face.

"I do so love the fact they make these suits the way they do."

Darlton could do nothing except let his palm collide with his forehead as the Knight of Nine walked away to her Knightmare.

* * *

Walking quickly, Ciaran weaved his way down the alley way of parked Sutherlands until his saw his destination, Bay Six. True to the general's words, the Sutherland parked there was swarming in orange coated tech crews, many of them clambering over the platforms holding up the unit, while some were huddled around a small computer bank. All had their backs turned to the young man.

Feeling like indulging his devious side, Ciaran took a deep breath.

"Atten-SHUN!" Ciaran roared, letting his voice carry to the crowd a couple of yards in front of him.

Almost in an instant, the men snapped out of what they were doing, the ones huddled around the computer bank turned to face him while the ones on the platform stopped what they were doing, all snapping quickly to attention and holding their hands in a salute. Soon though, the men relaxed as Ciaran drew closer.

"Well, it's good to see you guys are on your toes." The young man said with a smile, causing a ripple of laughter from the assembled men as they turned back to work. Coming closer, one of the crews detached themselves from the crowd and came up to him.

"Morning, Derek." Ciaran said with a smile as he held out his hand with the man took. Derek was a tall man, not as tall as either Guilford or Darlton but Ciaran still had to raise his head slightly to look him in the eyes. Pale-skinned, with blonde hair and green eyes, Derek looked like the quintessential Britannian, but he was a kind hearted man.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Forsyth," Derek replied, letting go off Ciaran's hand before directing him to the computer bank. "We've just finished installing your information in to the activation key, and your Sutherland's all set up for you and General Darlton to have some fun."

"General Darlton will not be joining us today," Ciaran said in a slightly melancholy tone. "Lady Nonette kind of barged her way in."

The technician sucked air in through his teeth. "Yikes."

"Yep," Ciaran replied before clapping his hands together. "Still, no use crying over it. Let's get this beauty started up!"

The assembled men gave a small cheer, Derek walking over to the desktop and disconnecting a small device that looked like a USB to Ciaran's eyes which was soon handed to him.

"All you have to do is plug that and enter the code, FD34C9Q1."

"That's quite a thing to remember," Ciaran said as he took the key before turning it over in his hand. "Any chance of being able to replace it with something a bit more memorable?"

"No problem, sir," One of the technicians replied, "But for technicality's sake, you have to start the Sutherland up with the code you've got."

Ciaran nodded his head as he made his way towards the platform around his Sutherland. It looked exactly like all the other Sutherlands in the garage: purple and black armour, with it's strange crested head, but the idea that he would be the pilot of this particular unit made him feel almost giddy.

He scaled the ladder quickly, the technicians already on the platform moving aside as the young man made his way up to the platform. When he reached the open cockpit, Ciaran climbed in and strapped himself in as the cockpit slid in to it's housing block, surrounding him in darkness. Soon, the darkness was replaced as small internal lights switched on, before he entered the key and punched in his activation code. Shortly afterwards, the various on-board screens came in to life, bathing the insides in harsh, artificial light.

Cracking his knuckles, Ciaran put his hands on the control sticks, pressing the buttons in the sequence that Darlton had shown him multiple times. Looking through the central view screen, he saw the technicians move out of the path of the Sutherland, taking their equipment with them.

"Disconnecting scaffolding platform." A disembodied voice came through in to the cockpit, followed by the machine shuddering as the surrounding platform was moved away.

"Lieutenant Forsyth," Derek's voice came through in to the machine, "You are clear to move out. Good luck, sir."

"Cheers, Derek." Ciaran chimed in. Taking a deep, steady breath, he rolled his thumbs over the control pads on the joystick. A small heads-up display bleeped, telling him that his landspinners had been deployed.

"All right then," The young man said to himself. "Let's dance."

* * *

Standing in the control room over looking the garage, Darlton could do nothing except look out from the large window in front of him, down in to the wide expanse below as he watched the various people in the garage quickly clear the area. Around him, various technicians sat at computers as they checked various screens and readouts. He was still wearing his pilot suit, but over it he wore the jacket of his Royal Guardsman uniform, letting the jacket hang open.

"All crews have reported in, and they are at their designated safety points, general." A female officer said, not taking her eyes off the screen before her.

"Good." Darlton said, as he walked forward to a nearby terminal. Pressing a small number of buttons in to the keypad, the screen flashed to life, revealing a screen split in two, showing a man and a woman's face, Ciaran on the left and Nonette on the right.

"The area's been cleared, so you two can make your way in to the centre of the garage."

"Copy that, general." Ciaran replied smartly.

"Yay! Let's get his party started." Nonette said cheerfully.

Darlton let a small smile come to his face as the screen switched to standby mode and took a step back. Looking out of the window, the sound of squealing tires drew his attention as he watched a Sutherland wheel into the room, grinding to a halt in the middle of the garage.

"Very smooth," a voice said behind him, "You've trained him well, Andreas."

Turning, Darlton smiled as the Knight of Four came to stand near him. Like before, she still wore her blue cloak over her white Knights of the Round uniform.

"It's just the basics," Darlton said, shrugging, "Besides, you can see that's he taking it slowly."

Dorothea nodded. "I don't think he'll be able to take it slowly with Nonette around," The Knight admitted, letting her head drop slightly. "I'm sorry I didn't do more to stop her."

Darlton didn't say anything but offer her a wry smile. The man knew that Dorothea had tried her hardest at keeping Nonette in check during their holiday.

"And here comes the devil herself." Dorothea said dryly. Looking across, Darlton frowned as Nonette wheeled her Knightmare in to the empty garage, executing a dramatic spin before she drew the machine to a halt. It was a Gloucester frame painted in stark white, as befitted a Knight of the Round, with purple and gold highlights along the baroque styled armour plates. The 'head' of the unit had the traditional Gloucester head replaced with a something more akin to a stylized version of a sallet helmet, with a single, large eye on the right side of the head.

Dorothea sighed, while Darlton merely let his head drop. The _Bedivere_ , Nonette's personal Knightmare. Gloucesters were meant to be specialised for close combat, but as befitting their status as Britannia's elite soldiers, the members of the Knights of the Round were allowed a large degree of personality for their units and Darlton knew that Nonette's frame was designed to facilitate her skill and fondness with long-range weapons.

Focusing on the small screen, the general spoke again. "Okay, listen to me. This was just going to be a small training drill. No guns, no blades. Just stun tonfas and slash harkens. Those were the original parameters I had intended to use, and I still intend to use them. Is that clear?"

"Crystal clear, sir." Ciaran replied smartly.

"Oh, you're no fun, Darlton." Nonette moaned, sounding like a spoilt child.

Darlton rolled his eyes. "I mean it, Lady Nonette. I don't want anyone dying out there. Understand me?"

If he was watching, Darlton would see Dorothea give him a small smile at how forceful his voice was.

"Okay." Nonette drawled out, the chance for her to have some fun being snatched away.

"Glad that's settled then," Darlton said with a smirk, "The training will begin when I say it does. So get ready, you two."

Down on the garage floor, the two pilots pressed buttons on their joysticks and, almost simultaneously, two pairs of large, rectangular bars, each the size of a man's torso, flipped outwards from beneath the hands of each Knightmare. The Sutherland took a stance similar to a boxer's, holding it's fists in front of it's face and chest at an angle, while the Bedivere set it's legs and arms wide while tilting it's body down and forwards.

"How long do you think he'll last?" Dorothea asked, worry in her voice.

Darlton didn't say anything, before opening his mouth.

"Begin."

For a few seconds, neither Knightmare did anything except stand there, sizing each other up. Then, with a squeal of tire on concrete, the Sutherland shot forward, it's right hand held in front of it, stun tonfa held ready to deliver a straight forward punch to the _Bedivere_ 's chest.

Dodging to the side, the _Bedivere_ swung it's right arm in an arc, aiming for the Sutherland's head. Turning quickly, the Sutherland dodged the swing, pushing itself back out of the reach of the swing, before rushing forward, it's right arm held ready for another attempt at a punch. Coming close, the Sutherland dodged to the left before bringing it's left arm up in an uppercut.

 _Bedivere_ had other plans though, as it fired one of it's shoulder mounted slash harkens at the offending limb, a pincer tipped cable shooting out and connecting with the approaching arm before it connected with the Gloucester's body. The transferred force, while not breaking through the Sutherland's armour, did buckle the purple armour and sent the Knightmare reeling back.

In the control room, Darlton couldn't help but give a small fist-pump at what he saw.

"Come on, Ciaran!" He cheered, not caring that the other people in the room heard him. Beside him, Dorothea was leaning forward to get a better look out of the window. On her face was plastered a mix of surprise and joy.

"He's actual got Nonette on the defensive," She said in mild shock, as she watched the purple Sutherland circle the _Bedivere_ , it's damaged left arm held across it's body in a cross-guard while it's right arm was held close to it's chest.. "I thought you said you only taught him the basics?"

"I did," Darlton replied, not taking his eyes off the now circling Sutherland. "The little bastard's just improvising."

'And that's dangerous', Darlton thought to himself, as Ciaran's Sutherland stopped it's encirclement and sped forward again. Again, the Sutherland's right arm was poised ready to deliver a punch to the Bedivere.

* * *

Inside her cockpit, Nonette grinned broadly as she saw Ciaran's Sutherland launch itself forward. He was going for the straight forward punch to the torso again. It was a good try the first time he tried it, but now it was just cute that the young man thought he could try the same thing again. Pulling on her control sticks, the _Bedivere_ moved backwards and to the side, avoiding the punch with an almost lazy air. Flicking forward, the customized Gloucester struck at the Sutherland's unprotected right side, landing two solid blows with it's stun tonfas to the shoulder and upper arm of the unit's arm, denting the armour but not rendering the mechanisms useless.

"Having fun yet, lieutenant?" Nonette called out over the open channel as the Sutherland rolled back to a safe, but close, distance.

Through the mic, she could hear the young man grunt before he spoke. "Best fun I've had for a long time, my lady."

Wrenching the sticks to the side, the _Bedivere_ avoided the slash harken that had been fired at it, the pincer tipped cable going wide as it flew through the air where the _Bedivere_ 's head would have been.

Nonette grinned again as the cable withdrew to it's housing on the Sutherland's chest.

"So you want to play rough then?" She called out. "Let's play rough then."

Rolling forward, the _Bedivere_ closed the distance between it and the Sutherland. Up close, Nonette fired off both it's slash harkens. The distance and speed of the cables did their job as _Bedivere_ latched itself to the opposing Knightmare by it's right shoulder and left forearm. Widening the stance of her Knightmare, the champagne-haired woman flicked open the video-link to Ciaran's Sutherland. The confused look on the young man's face made Nonette laugh loudly.

"Ready to give up yet, Ciaran?" Nonette couldn't but grin as Ciaran fixed her with an impressive scowl.

"Not a chance." Nonette rolled her eyes at the reply.

"As you wish." The woman replied before pulling her joysticks, which brought _Bedivere_ into a slow spin. "I want you to know that this hurts me more than it will hurt you. Well, just a little bit."

The swearing that came over the mic was soon transformed in to a scream of surprise as Nonette increased the speed of the spin.

* * *

Stepping out the elevator, Cornelia was surprised that the back of everyone in the control room was facing her. All present were solely focused on what was going on on the other side of the large window. Looking around, her eyes settled on the forms of Dorothea and Darlton, both standing in the middle of room. Unlike the others, they weren't staring out of the glass. Instead, both had either their head in their hands or just refused to look up.

"Darlton, Lady Ernst," She called out, walking over. "What's going on here..." Her words died in her throat as her jaw dropped at what she saw: Nonette's white Knightmare spinning a Sutherland with enough speed that the purple machine was lifted off the floor.

"Who is in the Sutherland?" She asked.

"Lieutenant Forsyth, your majesty." Dorothea replied resignedly.

The mention of the young man's name caused Cornelia's head to snap around, a look of shock and confusion on her face. Pulling his hands off his face, Darlton leaned down and activated the small screen before them. Flickering in to life, the screen filled with the images of Ciaran, his eyes screwed tight and his teeth set in a grimace, pressed tightly against the back of the cockpit chair, along with Nonette's face pulled in to a lackadaisical grin.

"Nonette! What are you doing?"

"Oh. Hi, Nellie!" Nonette replied, looking through the screen. "What's up?"

"What are you doing?" Cornelia repeated sternly.

Nonette shrugged, seeming to pay no attention to the fact her Knightmare was spinning round so quickly. "Just having a bit of fun."

Glaring at the woman, the princess all but snarled. "Let him go. Now." Instantly, she regretted her choice of words, but there was nothing Cornelia could do about it as Nonette fixed her another grin.

"Anything you say, princess."

With a scream from the other pilot, Nonette stopped her Knightmare and detached her slash harkens. The resulting spectacle was the purple Sutherland sailing through the air before crashing heavily in to a wall some twenty meters away, it's right side slamming in to the wall with enough force to cause the control room to shudder slightly. The entire room rose as one before rushing to the window, seeking to get a view of the crashed Sutherland.

Looking quickly, Cornelia focused on the screen before her. Currently, it was filled with static which soon faded to reveal the inside of the Sutherland's cockpit. The pilot's head was slumped down, but he was plainly breathing.

"Lieutenant. Can you hear me?"

At the sound of her voice, the young man gently shook then raised his head. Looking in to the screen, he gave a soft smile at the sight of the princess.

"Your majesty." Ciaran nodded.

"How are you feeling?"

The man opened his mouth to speak, before a confused look came to his face. He suddenly closed it before swallowing.

"Ciaran, are you all right?" Darlton asked, leaning down.

The pilot's response was lost as he bent over and vomited in to the bottom of the cockpit, causing all gathered around the screen to groan out loud in disgust, while Nonette simply howled with laughter.

* * *

Sitting on a upturned ammunition crate, his pilot suit hanging off his shoulders to dangle around his waist, Ciaran clutched the bucket he'd been given more tightly than he should have. Next to him sat a bottle of water. Looking around, he saw the Sutherland he had piloted mere minutes ago sitting in a docking bay. The once smooth purple armour had become completely buckled and broken down the right side of the machine, while it's left forearm was equally buckled and bent.

He couldn't help but grimace as he saw the technicians bring up the second bucket in five minutes as one of the men cleaned out the cockpit.

"I still can't believe that happened." He heard Darlton above him speak, looking at the technicians, before clapping the seated young man on the back. "Guess this means you won't be going on any roller-coasters any time soon, eh? Uh-oh."

The slap had caused Ciaran to gag, feeling that he was going to vomit again. Thankfully, it just resulted in a slight coughing fit, causing the young man's eyes to water.

"Bloody hell." The young man swore hoarsely, wiping the water from his eyes, before leaning down and picking up the bottle, taking a swig of the cool liquid.

The sound of footsteps drew his attention. Turning, he saw Lady Dorothea returning, another water bottle held in her hand and apologetic look on her face.

"How are you feeling, Lieutenant?" She asked as she drew close enough to hand him the water bottle which he took with a smile.

"Better than before, thank you."

Nodding, the dark-skinned woman reached under her cloak before withdrawing her hand. "Here." In the palm of her hand, she held out two pale, rectangular biscuits. Ciaran couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the sight.

"They'll help, trust me." The woman said, smiling slightly at the man's skepticism.

"She's right, you know." Darlton chimed in, crossing his arms over his large chest.

Taking the food from the woman's hand, Ciaran bit into the food. He chewed the food appreciatively, even though there was no taste to the biscuit, it still made him feel better.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" The stern voice of Princess Cornelia drew the trios attention. Looking up, they saw Cornelia, along with Guilford, standing in front of Nonette. The parallels that could be drawn between a head-master and a problem student were obvious to all present: Cornelia's face set in to a scowl, her arms crossed across her chest while Nonette simply had a small smirk on her face. .

Nonette was silent for a moment before she simply shrugged. "I don't know."

"How is that an answer?" The princess roared, unfolding her arms. "Do you know how close you were to killing him?"

"If I wanted him killed, you know I could easily do it," Nonette replied, the smirk dropping from her face, "Besides, it was just a bit of harmless fun, Nellie."

"Do not call me that! And how can you call it harmless fun?" Ciaran couldn't help but notice that Guilford had taken a couple of steps backwards which filled him with worry. "Why were you even training with him in the first place? General Darlton was the one who was supposed to be training him."

"I... may have ordered him to let me take his place." The young man couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at this turn of events: was Nonette sorry for something she'd done? The admission did not help Cornelia's mood however.

Taking a deep breath, Ciaran prepared to do something that was even more dangerous than his duel with Nonette.

"Princess Cornelia?"

"What?" Cornelia snapped, turning on the young man.

"I think that you're being a bit too harsh on Lady Nonette," He continued, trying his best at keeping his voice level. Behind the princess, he could see Guilford motioning for him to stop talking, but he kept going. "I will freely admit that Lady Nonette's treatment of me could have been... somewhat softer, but I did agree to train with her."

By now, Cornelia's focus was solely on Ciaran, leaving Nonette free. Even as the angry princess advanced on him, he still kept talking.

"While you feel that the blame should be solely on Nonette, I feel that you are being unfair. I am as much to blame for the situation I'm in as she is. If not more so."

By now, Cornelia was standing directly in front of him looking down at him, the scowl still plain on her face. Soon, her face softened in to a more neutral expression, until it became a soft smile. Sighing, Cornelia ran a white gloved hand through her hair.

"You just had to say something like that, didn't you, Ciaran?" To which the seated young man only shrugged as Cornelia turned to look at Nonette. "I'm still not happy with you, Nonette, but consider yourself off the hook. For now. Come along, Guilford."

As Cornelia left the room, Ciaran let out a shuddering breath. "That. Was horrifying."

"I can only imagine." Darlton said, chuckling softly.

Ciaran opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a startled cry as he found himself smashed in to the softness that Nonette's chest again. Wrapping her arms around his head, the champagne-haired woman rocked her whole body side to side.

"I don't know whether you are brave or stupid," The Knight said happily, "But next time you feel like pulling a stunt like that, tell me next time!"

Ciaran didn't, or rather couldn't, give a reply as he began softly beating a fist against Nonette's upper arm, causing Dorothea to roll her eyes at the display, while Darlton merely laughed.

* * *

Walking down the hallway to the elevator, Cornelia tapped her fingers against her forearm as she and Guilford neared the entrance.

"Well. That was certainly unexpected." Guilford admitted after a while, to which Cornelia merely nodded.

"The woman nearly kills him, and he defends her," Cornelia mused out loud. "I can't tell if he's insane or just a fool."

Guilford didn't give any reply except a nod. When they reached the elevator, the man reached forward and pressed the 'descend' button.

"What do you make of Lieutenant Forsyth, Guilford?"

The bespectacled man's eyebrows shot up in mild surprise, before he fell in to thought. "The incident at Lake Kawaguchi not withstanding, he seems to be a man who can keep a cool head, stay focused and, as we saw before, he was not above putting himself in harms away to defend someone. Why do you ask, your highness?"

"No reason, Guilford," Cornelia said, a small smile on her face as the doors to the elevator opened with a _ding_. "No reason at all."

* * *

 **AN: Boy, this took me a while. I've had this sitting on my harddrive for well over a week now. I haven't been able to get it out sooner because of several circumstances beyond my control, plus it went through several rewrites because there were certain things I wasn't happy with, and writing Knightmare on Knightmare combat is hard if you're a guy who's mainly been writing about gunfights and shit. Still, you live and learn, eh?**

 **Still, I think I'm proud of myself for (nearly) managing to bust out a chapter a week for you guys. Seriously, the fact you guys are liking this story so much and are giving it so much love is brilliant. Thank you.**

 **So, as I've said before, and will say again many times in the future: read and enjoy.**


	10. Chapter 10

Sitting in one of the various administrative rooms that filled the Viceroy's Palace, Ciaran could feel himself nodding off. His vision dimmed slightly as his eye lids grew heavy before a sharp pain in his ribs jolted him awake. Hissing with the pain, he turned to look at the offender. Looking to his side, General Darlton gave him small smirk before their attention was drawn to the large table before him.

"What do you intend to do about this, your highness?"

Looking around the table, Ciaran couldn't help but frown at what he saw. Seven noblemen, each man wearing outfits that seemed to belong in a pantomime rather than a meeting table, sat around a long rectangular table, with Princess Cornelia sitting at the head of the table, the ever-present Guilford sitting on her right, the two Knights of the Round standing behind each side of her chair, with himself and Darlton sitting on her left.. Compared to the outfits worn around the table, the Princess' and the Knight's uniforms were tame compared to the riot of colour: a horrible combination of lace coupled with various shades of greens, purples, reds and blues.

"Well, Lord Ratzinger, we fully intend to stamp this scourge out once and for all." Cornelia said simply, sounding like a teacher repeating a lecture to a child.

"But we have done everything we can, your highness, and we have been unable to stop them." A heavy-set noble, a goatee and wearing a monocle on his face, intoned.

Cornelia fixed the man with a lazy stare. "'You' have been unable to stop them, you mean. Not 'we'".

"Yes, your highness. My apologies." The man said, sitting back in his chair, a layer of sweat beginning to form on his forehead.

"Needless to say," Cornelia continued, leaning forward in her chair and lacing her fingers together. "I fully intend to close off the Kyushu Route and stop the trafficking of Refrain in to Area 11. Guilford?"

Nodding at the command, Guilford politely cleared his throat. "Thank you, my lady. As I'm sure you're all aware, the Chinese Federation has been using the Kyushu Route out of the Korean Peninsular to smuggle Refrain in to Area 11 for the past five years. Whether the drug is being manufactured on the peninsular or somewhere else, is open for debate."

Reaching under the desk, Guilford took out several thin folders which he began distributing to each person in the room, starting with the Princess, before working his way around the table, culminating with Darlton and Ciaran.

"Lieutenant."

"Thank you, my lord."

Taking the folder, the young man opened it and began leafing through the pages. Refrain. Even if he hadn't been raised by a member of the police, Ciaran was certain he'd still find drugs a thing to hate. Princess Cornelia was kind enough to inform him about the drug, about it being a psychotropic, effecting the users brain chemistry, although to what end she didn't say.

Turning to another page, Ciaran's eyes focused on a map showing the northern edge of the island of Kyushu, with a large red arrow coming from the direction of the Korean Peninsular, through the Sea of Japan, before stopping short of a body of water labelled as the Kanmon Straits.

"As you can see from the maps provided to you," Guilford spoke, taking his place beside Cornelia once more, "Through information taken from captured smugglers, along with analysis of distribution routes of Refrain, our intelligence division has determined that the city of Kitakyushu is the most likely point of distribution."

"Certainly the most likely route I'd use." Ciaran heard Darlton mutter, which made him nod.

Cornelia's Knight continued, not hearing the General's remark. "However, the problem that we are facing is not discerning the point of entry in to the country. The problem is discerning the true distribution point.

"Now, as you can all see from the map, several areas have been pinpointed as possible off-loading points for the smugglers to use, yet we have been unable to identify which ones are true points of use for the smugglers and which ones are merely façades.

"Our agents have been unable to penetrate the ring, but a small few have gotten close. We have received word from those agents that, in a few days, information would be sent regarding whether or not they had successfully infiltrated the smugglers operation," Lord Guilford continued, folding his hands together as he sat down at the table. "If we knew where the legitimate points were, we would have been able to shut down the route for good. But, as I'm sure you are all aware, that is not the case... as proven by the ineptitude of Lord Ratzinger."

"Now wait just a minute..." The large man began angrily, before a glare from Cornelia silenced his protests.

"Lord Guilford is correct," Darlton spoke up, pushing his chair back as he stood before pacing slowly around the table. "If the Princess' agents were able to to infiltrate the smugglers, then we would be able to pinpoint the locations in mere hours, before sending a force in to Kitakyushu to shut down the operation.

"It is due to your actions, or inaction rather, that we've made so little, if any, progress in finding the distribution points. If I was a more suspicious man, I'd say that you were deliberately impeding this mission." Darlton muttered, staring down the rotund noble.

The room filled with silence as all present stared at either Darlton or Ratzinger, the latter beginning to sweat profusely.

A loud bout of laughter broke the silence, all present turning to look at the man laughing heartily. Looking down the table, Ciaran saw a slim man in a dark green jacket and black lace, a monocle over one eye, smiling broadly as he clapped his gloved hands together.

"Is there something funny, Lord Hasselbach?" Princess Cornelia asked, annoyance plain on her face.

"Just the assumption that Alfred, that is Lord Ratzinger, can be part of the drug trade," The man said, wiping under his uncovered eye, "You have to forgive me, your highness, but I find it quite hard to believe."

Several of the nobles nodded, muttering agreements, glad that the situation had been diffused.

"Now, I dare not question you intelligence officers, or their sources, but I am afraid to say that finding these smugglers is just hard. The Kanmon Straits are a large body of water with lots of areas to hide in. If we knew where to look, we would find them."

"So why haven't you?" Princess Cornelia asked testily, which brought a shrug from Lord Hasselbach.

"Prince Clovis didn't deem it important at the time."

Cornelia 'tsked' in reply. "Carry on Guilford."

"As you wish, my lady," The bespectacled Knight said, "Now, our intelligence operatives have succeeded in narrowing down the suspected area of operations to be close to Kitakyushu proper although, as I said earlier, finding the true point of origin is a bit difficult. However, using common sense rules and previous experience with the drug trade, we have eliminated several areas as being unlikely."

"Such as, my lord?" Ciaran spoke up, drawing the attention of several of the nobles present, but Guilford answered the question regardless.

"Well, the inlets further from the city for example, since common sense dictates that the time to transport them would be too long."

"So it would have to be somewhere where containers could be off-loaded quickly, but not in such a way as to draw too much undue attention." Ciaran mused.

"Like the dock's for example." Lord Hasselbach said offhandedly as he looked over the map.

"Who mentioned anything about the docks, my lord?" Ciaran asked flatly.

"What?"

"I'm just curious as to why you'd mention the docks of all places," The young man picked up the map and appeared to study it. "I mean, looking at this map, there are all kinds of places small boats could go in to and unload their payload without being detected. But the docks... tad bit on the nose, don't you think?"

The man didn't say anything in reply. He just clenched and unclenched his fist.

"So why, of all places, did you happen to mention the docks, my lord?" Ciaran asked, a sincere look of confusion on his face.

"Well... I... Uh..." The man began stammering, his gaze shifting between the occupants of the table and the room. The others at the table were simply confused, while Cornelia and her entourage looked at Hasselbach with minor contempt.

"I'm sure you're a smart man, my lord," Ciaran continued, folding his hands underneath his chin while staring down the noble. "So I highly doubt you'd pay undue attention to movies and television shows. But I'm really curious as to why you'd mention the docks." The young man leant back in his chair, keeping his fingers crossed while not taking his eyes off Hasselbach.

The air in the room seemed to have dropped a good few degrees, as all eyes were on the pair. Cornelia and her retinue had their eyes fixed on the lord in the green jacket, while the nobles had their attention split between the young man and Lord Hasselbach.

"I'm starting to think of the reason why you mentioned the docks, my lord," Ciaran said sternly, "I'm starting to simply think that you know about the true off-loading point of the Refrain. And I'm starting to think that you're in on the operation itself."

Stunned silence filled the air, everyone in the room seeming to hold their breath.

"Am I wrong, my lord?" Ciaran simply said, putting his hands palm down on the table.

Lord Hasselbach said nothing, his face impassive.

What happened next occurred simply as a blur of activity to those who weren't in it. Hasselbach, his face suddenly morphed in to a snarl of rage, tried to reach his hand in to the breast of his jacket, the two nobles seated beside him clambering out of their chairs in fear. However, the sound of wooden chairs clattering on to the carpet closely followed as both Darlton and Ciaran suddenly surged to their feet, pistols held ready in their hands. Even besides Cornelia, Nonette had advanced forward, her pistol levelled straight at Lord Hasselbach. Throughout the whole commotion, the only indication of surprise from Cornelia was a slight widening of her eyes.

"And that proves me right." Ciaran said simply.

"Tch. This proves nothing," Lord Hasselbach snorted, his hand still underneath his jacket. "Anyone would have-"

"No innocent person would have reached for a pistol first, Lord Hasselbach," Cornelia snarled, practically spitting out the man's name. "Guards!"

Almost a split second later, the door to the conference room burst open, a squad of assault rifle armed guards rushing in, quickly surrounding the angry noble, their rifles levelled at his head. Ciaran, Darlton and Nonette lowered their pistols as the soldier's completed their cordon around the man.

"Lord Augustus Hasselbach," Cornelia said, standing up from her chair, "You are hereby placed under arrest, pending investigation, for your involvement in the illegal trade of Refrain. Lord Guilford, please escort this... man, out of here."

Walking forward, Guilford held his palm out in front of the noble who, after letting out a sigh, withdrew his hand along with an ornate, short-barrelled revolver which he placed in the Knight's hand before standing up. As he rose, Lord Hasselbach shot Ciaran a sharp glare before stalking out of the room, flanked by the guards and followed by Guilford who pressed the lord's own pistol against his back.

When the group had left, Cornelia coughed lightly in to her hand, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

"Well, it seems our little meeting was interrupted so rudely, so for brevity's sake, I will consider this meeting finished. All agreed?"

A chorus of 'ayes' sounded around the table.

"All right then. Good day to you, gentlemen." Cornelia said putting on a disarming smile.

It didn't take long for the six remaining nobles to vacate the room, leaving Ciaran, Darlton, Cornelia and the two Knights of the Round alone in the room. When the door closed shut, the two officers let out a collective sigh, Ciaran leaning forward to rest his hands against the table.

"Bloody Christ, that was close."

"I'll say, Ciaran." Darlton replied, holstering his pistol before turning to look at Cornelia as she stalked around the table to come behind the young man. As Ciaran stood up, Cornelia brought her hand up and smartly hit the man in the back of the head hard, which brought a quick snigger from Nonette.

"Ow!"

"Are you insane?" Cornelia said, her eyes boring in to Ciaran's head.

The young man rubbed the back his head as he shrugged. "I think the jury might be out on that one, your highness."

The princess rolled her eyes at the remark. "Seriously, lieutenant, you're going to get yourself killed one of these days with the way you're going."

Ciaran shrugged at the remark. "It worked though, didn't it? I mean, I got him to practically confess, right?"

Cornelia rolled her eyes again before Darlton spoke up. "So, what's the plan, your highness?"

"The plan remains unchanged, but we're advancing the time-frame since Lieutenant Forsyth here," She fixed the young man a withering stare, "Has just so helpfully revealed to us the primary location for the smugglers."

"Understood, your highness." Darlton said nodding his head.

"So get ready. You'll be leaving in two hours. I trust you can get your preparations done in time?"

"I can get it done, your highness." Darlton said flashing a grin.

Cornelia nodded her head in reply, before turning her gaze on Ciaran again. "And you," She levelled a finger at the young man. "I want a word with you. In private."

Ciaran swallowed as he watched Cornelia stalk out of the room, his eyes fixed on her white cloak as he heard the three other occupants of the room came to stand beside him.

"You're screwed." Nonette said, somewhat sympathetically.

"Royally screwed." Ciaran said, which brought a small grin to his face and another smack to the back of the head from Darlton.

* * *

Standing again in the spacious Viceroy's Room, Ciaran stood before the desk as Cornelia, seated in her large chair, drew to the end of a phone conversation, her left side facing towards the young man.

"Okay. Thank you, Guilford. You can take your time coming back. Goodbye." The princess said, replacing the phone on it's receiver, before turning to look at the Lieutenant. "That was Guilford. Lord Hasselbach has just been placed in custody and is being _quite_ cooperative."

"Understood, your majesty." Ciaran said, nodding his head.

Cornelia sighed, rubbing her hand against her forehead. "I will say, that was a very ballsy move you pulled. Tell me that you didn't plan it before hand, right?"

Ciaran shook his head. "No, your highness. It kind of came as a spur of the moment thing." At that revelation, Cornelia let out a small sigh.

"I never got to ask you, but how are feeling after what happened at Lake Kawaguchi?" The princess said softly.

"Better, your highness."

"During the operation, I noticed you were quite hesitant to send Warrant-Officer Kururugi in to the access tunnel." Cornelia said, resting her head against one of her hands. That made Ciaran lower his gaze to look down at the floor. The princess said nothing, waiting for the young man to speak his mind.

"You'll have to forgive me, Princess, but the idea of sending a young boy to his likely death just doesn't sit well with me." Ciaran said, raising his head to look at Cornelia with a blank face, making her sigh again.

"But you did it anyway."

The young man nodded as a reply.

"I guess that Darlton didn't prepare you for that sort of thing, did he?"

"I doubt he could, your highness."

Cornelia nodded her head before moving her hand to under the desk, opening a drawer and removing a small envelope. Standing up from her chair, the Princess walked around the desk to stand before the young man. Upending the contents of the envelope, two stylized metal stars, in to an open palm, Cornelia reached forward and attached them to the young man's jacket shoulder.

"I'm sorry for this, Ciaran," The Princess said, the fact that she used his first name surprising the young man, "But I'm sending you to the wolves again. I'm gazetting you Captain, fully this time, and you'll be in charge of the operation."

"Wha-pardon?" Ciaran sputtered, his eyes wide.

"Well, you'll be in charge of the operation on the ground. Darlton will be assisting with logistics and all the rest, but you'll be in charge of the men on the ground when the operational clock hits zero."

"In charge of the operation?" Ciaran asked, to which Cornelia nodded.

"Indeed. I'll also be assigning one of the Knights of the Round to be your second-in-command."

"But why me?" Ciaran questioned, a look of confusion on his face. Cornelia let her hands rest on young man's shoulders, her eyes looking at one of the buttons on his chest before speaking.

"Because I believe there's more to you than meets the eye, Ciaran," Cornelia said, raising her head to look the man in the eye. "Darlton seems to believe it, and he's never been wrong about this sort of thing as long as I've known him."

Ciaran nodded his head before letting it slump down, feeling quite ashamed but still unsure. Noticing the look, Cornelia used a finger to raise his head up.

"Nil Desperandum." Cornelia said with a small smile.

"Never Despair." Ciaran translated with a small smile of his own, nodding his head. Cornelia gave him a small pat on his shoulder.

"General Darlton will be waiting for you in the garage. I suggest you hurry up to meet him. You'll be leaving in under an hour." Ciaran saluted by bowing his head, before turning around and walking out of the room. If he had turned around, he would have noticed the thin, worried smile Cornelia gave his back. Instead, Ciaran just jogged quickly through the corridors of the Palace, working his way quickly towards the elevator that would lead him to the garage below.

Exiting the elevator as it descended, Ciaran was again struck by how large the structure was. Although this time, the garage echoed to the din of activity as men and machines moved around the open space. Engines of APCs purred idly, while the stamp of marching feet and shouted orders assaulted his ears as Ciaran moved through the space. Soldiers saluted him as he worked his way past them, looking for Darlton.

"Where's General Darlton?" He asked a soldier, taking a hold of his arm, who pointed off towards the centre of the room. Nodding his thanks, Ciaran made his way towards the centre, finding the going much easier as he passed a small squadron of armoured vehicles until, passing through the gap between two of the vehicles, he spied the General. The man was deep in thought over a PDA, his brow furrowed in annoyance, standing in front a large truck-like trailer painted in a simple grey colour scheme.

"General Darlton, sir!" Ciaran called out as he approached the large man, snapping off a smart salute as the General turned around. Darlton's face morphed in to a large grin as he saw the young Captain, tucking the clipboard under his armpit.

"Ha-ha! I am glad to see you," Darlton said happily, returning the salute before clapping the young man across the shoulder. "And a Captain now? Is it official?"

"So the Princess tells me, sir." Ciaran replied somewhat glumly, which made a frown form on the General's square face.

"Hey, cheer up," Darlton said, keeping his voice amicable. "Being in command is nowhere as hard as you think it is, trust me. Especially with this sort of mission."

Ciaran didn't say anything but offer a wry smile before leaning sideways slightly to see past the larger man to look at the large trailer. "Doesn't seem that a bit conspicuous?"

"Would you prefer we use the G-1?" Darlton asked in a snarky tone.

"Point taken." Ciaran said with a shrug, before cautiously looking around. "So what's the plan for tonight?"

"Nothing too complicated. We'll just be going in on foot with one company of infantry with one held in reserve. We won't be using Knightmares either, so it'll be an old school brawl. Although the Knight who's coming with us tonight might bring her own."

"Okay. So, remind me again, why are Lady Nonette and Lady Dorothea still here?"

"They're here because they feel they'd do more good helping fight the Black Knights then going back to the Homeland. At least that's Lady Dorothea's reason. As for Lady Nonette... I don't know. She's always been an odd one."

"Charming!" A voice called out from behind the duo, startling the two men as they turned around.

Behind them, with her arms crossed across her chest and a strong scowl on her face, stood Nonette, with Dorothea standing a few paces behind her.

"He's not wrong, you know." Ciaran said with a soft grin.

"Shut up." Nonette snapped, her scowl not leaving her face, causing Ciaran to take a step back in fear. Behind the champagne-haired woman, Dorothea let out a low chuckle.

"Don't mind her, Lieutenant. She's just sour because I beat her in a simple game of rock-paper-scissors. Again."

The Knight of Four's words caused Nonette to turn around with a deeper scowl on her face, while Darlton and Ciaran shared a small, hopeful look.

"So does that mean you'll be accompanying us tonight, Lady Dorothea?" Darlton asked.

"Indeed I am." Dorothea head with a sly smile.

"Best news all day," Ciaran said with a smile, "Also, it's Captain now, my lady, not Lieutenant."

A look of happy surprise came to her face as she nodded her head. "Good to hear."

"Okay, enough!" Nonette said testily, spreading her arms out with a flourish. "I'm going to go see Nellie. See you later."

"Who shoved a stick up her arse?" Ciaran said bluntly as the Knight of Nine stalked out of earshot.

"No clue," Dorothea said with a shrug. "Are we ready to leave, General?"

"Almost, my lady," Darlton said, pulling the clipboard out from under his armpit to look at it. "We're just making sure the last squads are loaded up and ready."

"Right then. Captain Forsyth, will you join me in the command trailer to oversee the plans?" Dorothea said, nodding her head and motioning to the large vehicle, her eyes falling on the young Captain.

"By your command, my lady." Ciaran said, bowing his head before moving towards the trailer followed closely by Dorothea, leaving Darlton alone in the garage to oversee the last few details of the mission be tied together.

* * *

Before the clock struck the hour, at ten minutes to two in the afternoon, the door of the last APC closed with _hiss_ and a _clank_ as the last soldier took his place among his squadmates. As the clock struck the hour, ten minutes later, the order was given and with the (slightly underwhelming) noise of over a dozen engines, the APCs and command trailer rolled out of the garage and on to the main road. The journey from the Tokyo Settlement to Kitakyushu took just a little over seven hours, the armoured convoy taking the main highway straight there. Not that traffic would be any problem, since no-one wanted to get in the way of a heavily armed and armoured Britannian military convoy.

It was close nine in the evening that the convoy passed through the city boundary in to Kitakyushu, crossing the bridge just as the sun began to set. The sight of many military vehicles would have tipped the smugglers off to the soldiers ready to pounce on the illegal activity, so the convoy was split in to three groups: one taking the direct route through the city to meet at an empty dock a mile or two from the main dockyards, the second going through the back streets with the third circumventing the city entirely.

It was just before ten that the last troop carrier rolled in to the designated meeting point, the vehicle guided by a soldier with a fluorescent baton, even as the darkness was being brutally chased away by the glare of large floodlights. Soldiers stood clustered around their vehicles as they began final checks on their equipment and weapons before the mission started: ammunition was counted and recounted, magazines distributed. Pouches were tightened, checked and tightened again, while radios were set to designated frequencies.

Inside the command trailer, the newly promoted Captain, wearing the same combat uniform as the rest of the soldier's present, stood with the Knight of Four and the General as the plan was told again using a holographic map that showed the lay-out of the targeted dock. Darlton was right: it would be done old school. First company, split between four fire-teams, with one fire-team acting as overwatch, would assault the building suspected as being the base of the smuggler's operation. Ciaran would lead the first company, while Dorothea in her Knightmare would lead the second company in support in case something went wrong. Darlton would oversee the entire operation and, if the worst case scenario happened, would take over full control of the mission. The mission parameters were simple: any found Refrain was to be destroyed. If possible, smugglers were to be taken alive as prisoners, if not, lethal force was authorised. There was no reason to suspect civilians were to be present, but Darlton stressed the need for proper fire control. The final part of the plan was the inclusion of a quarter of Royal Britannian Naval Heracles-class Destroyers, two stationed at both ends of the Kanmon Straits.

"A nasty surprise for anyone who tries to escape by the water." Darlton quipped.

The last notes of the mission plan repeated, the young Captain excused himself, citing the need to oversee the final organization of the forces present, leaving Dorothea and Darlton in the trailer to prepare.

* * *

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" Darlton said, his baritone voice rolling out as he crossed his arms over his large chest. Standing in the large command trailer's changing room, the general had his eyes fixed firmly on the wall in front of him. Behind him, separated by an opaque screen, he could hear Dorothea slipping in to her pilot suit. Darlton was, if anything, a gentleman, and he was certainly not going to look at one of his former students getting dressed. "Your first mission as an officer was something similar, wasn't it, Dorothea?"

"Your memory is still as good as ever, Andreas." The woman replied, and the general was sure he could hear a smile on her face as she said it. If it was anyone else, barring the Princesses' and Guilford, calling him by his first name, he'd correct them. But with Dorothea, he had no such qualms.

The sound of a zip travelling upwards followed by the sound of the screen being moved away told Darlton it was time for him to turn around. Standing before him, Dorothea was clad in her white pilot suit. The chest and neck area down to her navel were made of a black material, a small gold design set in to the centre of her neck. Her suit was completed by her forearms being covered in royal blue up to her elbows, green patches on her upper arm and finally gold inlay than ran in straight, geometric stripes up her outfit. Her long black hair was tied back in a bun with a braid that hung over the right side, which showed her high cheekbones and angular face well.

"Nervous?" Darlton asked, a sly grin on his face as he watched the Knight of Four attach a white belt covered with several pouches and a pistol holster to her hips.

Dorothea responded with a small chuckle as she clipped the belt in place. "A drug bust, with a full two companies of soldiers and the use of my own Knightmare? What's there to be nervous about?"

The general nodded his head as he chuckled too. As far as military operations went, this was an easy one.

"Although there is something I feel I need to ask." Dorothea said, her eyes taking on a confused look, which caused Darlton to cock his eyebrows in confusion. "Are you really sure that he can carry this out?"

Darlton let out a small sigh, knowing who he was referring to. "I did try and say to Princess Cornelia that Cia... I mean, Captain Forsyth was not ready to be out in the field, let alone leading a mission. But, once the Princess has made her mind up..."

"There's nothing we can do." Dorothea finished his sentence for him, nodding her head softly. "Is that why you volunteered to oversee this mission, then?"

Taken aback by her words, Darlton couldn't help but chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I guess there's no pulling the wool over your eyes, is there?" Dorothea only shrugged as a reply.

"To answer your question: yes," Darlton continued, "Maybe because he reminds me of a certain dark-haired woman when she was his age."

The look that Dorothea shot him could have boiled an egg at ten paces, but Darlton only gave a sharp bark of laughter.

"But in all honesty," The general said, dropping his jovial tone instantly, "That boy's not been here in Area 11 for very long, let alone in uniform. I've done my best to prepare him, but I don't think I've prepared him enough." His tone was remorseful as he spoke, sounding like a man who failed at something important.

The Knight of Four nodded her head sympathetically. "We all have to face that road when it come to it, Andreas. We both know that as well as anyone. If I didn't know you, I'd say you were soft."

Darlton couldn't help but smile at the jab as he watch Dorothea walk through the door of the command trailer in to a small recreation area, which he followed her in to. It was a Spartan room; small, with grey walls and floors broken up by dark blue chairs and a table, all bolted to the floor. To the side of the room, a small fridge was connected to the wall along with a small television mounted on to the wall, a large window covered by blinds opposite.

Walking over to the window, Dorothea flicked open the blinds, letting the light from the various vehicles and floodlights that lit up the staging area enter the room. Darlton joined her as she looked out of the window, seeing the soldiers going about their various preparations, officers giving instructions. In the midst of it all, both could see the form of the newly promoted Captain Forsyth standing before a small group of junior officers, talking animatedly over a small map held in his hands. General Darlton smiled inwardly at the sight. Even though the young man was shorter by a full head that many of the officers around him, he had them hanging on his every word.

Looking at the scene playing through the window, Darlton couldn't help but smile as a memory surfaced. A memory of a young woman, with emerald eyes and dark-skin, just newly given her captaincy. Even if she had already risen through the ranks from a private soldier, the general knew that her new role still filled Dorothea with equal parts fear and pride.

"I remember your first command," Darlton said, crossing his arms over his chest, "I was certain you were going to wet yourself." The large man's voice became a chuckle as Dorothea shot him another glare, before the General took on a more placating tone. "But you pulled through it perfectly, and became the woman you are now."

"What's your point, Darlton?"

"I'm just saying that I had faith in you then, and I have faith in Captain Forsyth now."

The woman didn't say anything in reply, so Darlton continued talking.

"The young man arrives here, without a family, without any sort of knowledge of the area and nearly winds up dead in the process. But instead of succumbing like most people would, he chooses the military, a hard path for most people already, and even becomes a member of Cornelia's Royal Guard. The lad's strong. I just want to make sure he's strong enough."

Mentally, Darlton grimaced at what he had said. It was far too close to the truth for comfort, but seeing Dorothea nod solemnly brought relief.

"Looks like he's finished." Darlton said, nodding towards the window. With a small flurry of salutes, the group outside dispersed, leaving Ciaran to fold up the map and put in one of his trouser pockets, before tilting his head back, seeming to take in a deep breath.

"Come on." Darlton said, walking towards the exit in the side of the trailer. His hand was centimetres away from the handle before Dorothea's voice stopped him.

"Andreas," The woman said, pausing for a moment before speaking, "If you trust him, then so do I. I just wanted to make sure."

Looking at her, Darlton let a thin smile come to his face as he nodded. Taking the handle, he stopped before looking at the woman.

"Dorothea. On the subject of Captain Forsyth, what are your thoughts on him?"

The woman seemed taken aback by the question, eyes widening in surprise, before her face became a neutral mask.

"He's proven himself enough to gain your trust and confidence. As your former student, I have no reason to doubt your belief in the man."

The answer was too text-book for his liking, but Darlton didn't pry. He simply nodded his head before exiting the trailer, Dorothea following close behind, the duo making their way to the Captain.

"Everything all set, Captain Forsyth?" Darlton called out, drawing the young man's attention.

"We're just waiting on the word, General." Ciaran said, straightening his back up as he met the General's gaze.

Turning to Dorothea, the General spoke again. "You'll find your Knightmare in second company's staging area, Lady Ernst."

"All right, General," Dorothea said before moving forward to offer the young Captain her hand. "Good luck to you tonight, Captain. I honestly hope you won't be needing me tonight."

Ciaran took the hand and shook it. "I hope so too, my lady."

Parting hands, Dorothea jogged off as Darlton drew closer to the young man. "Are you ready, lad?"

Ciaran replied with a simple nod of his head. Satisfied, Darlton smiled broadly. "Go to your station, Captain. Jump off's in fifteen minutes."

Nodding his head, the young Captain turned and jogged away to meet with his designated fire-team, leaving Darlton alone in the staging area. Tilting his head to look up at sky above, Darlton frowned at the lack of visible stars, before walking away to enter the trailer. Unaware that on the other side of the dock, a small force of men and women in black uniforms, led by a masked and caped man were moving in to position.

* * *

 **AN: Uggh... this blood chapter! This chapter!**

 **First off, let me say this: to all of the people who have favourite and followed this story, especially those of you who have followed it from the very beginning, I just want to say thank you for your patience. It shows that you trust me enough to deliver you good content, and I hope I'm delivering.**

 **Secondly, a big thank to A. , whom I've been in contact with over the last month, practically throughout the entire length of time it took to write this sodding chapter. Without him, I doubt I'd have gotten anywhere off the ground with this one. So, thank you, man, for letting me bounce ideas off of you and for helping get this chapter up.**

 **Umm, okay. So yeah. There are several reasons for this chapter coming up so late, the main ones being simply the fact that I didn't know what to write for certain bits of the chapter, the fact that several scenes were just scenes that I hadn't done before and also for the that I have very recently lost my job and, as I'm sure some of you know, that had seriously knocked my writing drive off for six.**

 **The scene at the beginning is... to be honest, I know it's quite bad but, as I said, it was a scene I had not written before, so it was quite hard to do. But no matter how many times I rewrote it, I just couldn't get it sound believable. Although considering the setting, I think a good amount of suspension of disbelief is all right. Plus, I did try and make sure I didn't go too far over my own limit for a chapter length (8 or 9 pages) so I had to write out the ending the way I did. And because of that, chapter 11 will be LONG.**

 **But on the plus side, I hope this chapter will be the start of something more serious in the series, since I feel I've been writing a few too many comedy bits so far.**

 **So... that's all I've got to say on this chapter.**

 **As normal: read and enjoy.**


	11. Chapter 11

Crouching low in the gap between one of the warehouses and a row of shipping containers, Ciaran pulled back the cuff of his sleeve to reveal the glow in the dark hands and numbers of his watch. It was a birthday gift from his sister; a Fossil watch. It was a simple thing; a black face and strap intersected down it's length by two white stripes, with a case made of a gunmetal-coloured metal.

Focusing on the thinnest hand, he watched it pass the 12 on the face.

Four minutes.

Four minutes until the start of the mission.

Turning in place, Ciaran faced the fireteam assembled behind him, all crouched in the same position he was. Raising his hand, he held up four fingers and mouthed the time to the fifteen men behind him. Fourteen expressionless masks nodded back at him, while the stern face of Sergeant-Major Nicholas Reynolds gave him a wide smile.

Ciaran liked Reynolds. As a sergeant-major, the older man was a career soldier. Their meeting during the final parts of the mission prep cemented that fact.

When the young Captain had approached his designated fireteam, he saw Reynolds directing the men out of the APC.

"Sergeant-major!" Ciaran called out, drawing the man's attention. Turning, he was confronted by a square-faced man with a pugnacious nose, tanned skin and fierce green eyes. Under his dark blue beret, close-cropped black hair topped his head.

"Captain." The man replied, saluting him. He gave Ciaran a quick glance before he stared directly in front of him.

"Are you my second, Reynolds?" The young man asked, reading the sergeant-major's name tag, to which the man nodded in reply.

"All set, sir?" Reynolds asked, his voice giving no indication to his thoughts on the Captain's age.

"Nearly. There's just one thing I need to discuss with you." Ciaran said flatly.

"Sir?" Reynolds replied, not taking his eyes from the imaginary spot he was staring at.

"I'll be blunt: this is my first time leading this sort of mission, or even in combat itself. So..." Ciaran's voiced trailed off as he found the right words to say.

"I understand, sir," Reynolds said, bluntly keeping his voice professional. "I'll have no trouble taking over if things go south."

"I'll hold to that, Sergeant-Major." Ciaran said, before he began going over their mission in detail.

"Griffin One Actual, this is Command. Do you copy, over?" General Darlton's voice, masked slightly by a small amount of static, drew the young man back to the present.

"Command, this Griffin One Actual. Read you loud and clear."

"Griffin One Actual, you have three minutes until kick off. Are your fireteams in position, over?"

"Command, all fireteams in position. Just waiting the signal, over."

"Copy that. Griffin Two Actual, are your teams ready on standby?"

"Command, this is Griffin Two Actual." Lady Dorothea's voice came through the headset. "All my teams are ready and waiting. Over."

"Copy that. All teams, await for further orders. Command out." Darlton said before keying off his mic.

Turning his body round, Ciaran looked at Reynolds. "You all set, sergeant-major?"

"All set, sir." Reynolds replied.

"Good. But don't forget our deal, Reynolds." The Captain said with a smile, to which the older man shook his head.

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir. Although I think I'd feel safer about the deal if your wore a helmet."

Reaching up, Ciaran thumbed the bill of the drab grey field cap he was wearing, before shrugging. "I like to see what's coming from the sides."

Reynolds didn't say anything except give a small chuckle which Ciaran joined in with, the soldiers behind them sharing confused glances. Looking at his watch, the young Captain took in a deep breath.

"One minute. Get ready, men."

The sound of rifle safeties being clicked off came as the response. Reaching behind him, Ciaran drew out his own rifle, flicking the safety off, just as Darlton's voice came through his earpiece.

"Command to Griffin One. Be prepared to move out in thirty seconds. Over."

"Copy that command. Over. Thirty seconds, gents." Ciaran said, before addressing the men behind him, as he raised himself in to a standing position, his back pressed tightly against the wall. Behind him, the men in his fireteam copied his movements as Ciaran peered around the corner.

"Command to all Griffin teams: Melissa. I say again: Melissa."

"Copy that: Melissa." Dorothea's voice came through.

"Copy that, sir: Melissa. All right, men. Let's move it!" Ciaran acknowledged before leading his fireteam from it's hiding place and began moving towards the designated entrance point. They advanced in single file, sticking close to the wall for cover, rifles held at the ready. Even though he knew that each man had tightened their equipment down as bes as they possibly could, to Ciaran's ears, it sounded like he was leading a brass band. Out of the corner of his right eye, he could just about make out the positions of the overwatch teams, two sniper teams and two general purpose machine guns secluded on top of a short stack of large, rectangular shipping crates.

Quickly working their way down town the concrete, Ciaran could see the entrance in to the building, a small single side-door under a lonely lamp. Drawing closer, he saw the second fireteam, Griffin close in from the opposite side of the door. Slowing his speed from a quick jog to a careful walk, Ciaran let his body press against the wall.

Holding his rifle tight against his shoulder, Ciaran let his finger ghost against the trigger in anticipation. Blood was pounding in his ears and his heart felt like it would erupt from his chest, but he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Glancing up, Ciaran looked at the man standing on the opposite side of the door, a corporal of the same size and stature as himself. Peering back over his shoulder, he locked eye with Reynolds, who gave him a simple nod, which he returned. Looking back to the door, Ciaran looked at the soldier opposite him and gave him a nod of his own.

* * *

Kallen Kozuki, the red-headed, half-Britannian and half-Japanese Knightmare pilot of the Black Knights, sat in the cockpit of her red armoured Glasgow, her fingers gripping the tops of the controls tight. Through the main monitor, she watched as Zero commanded the members of the Black Knights, all armed with submachine guns, to fan out in front of the main entrance in to the warehouse. The masked man ordered the other members with the same vigour and presence as a battle-hardened general.

"All right, everyone's in position." Ohgi's voice came through the internal speakers, closely followed by Zero's voice himself.

"Good. Stand by for my word."

Kallen let out the breath she'd be unconsciously holding.

This was it.

It was always the build up to a mission that terrified her, but when the shit hit the fan, she was felt more at ease.

At least she used to. The last couple of days had shaken her up, especially with her mother.

"Get ready, everyone." Zero's voice cut into her reverie, snapping her back to the present. "Q-One, are you ready?"

"You know it, Zero." Kallen put a small measure of false bravado in to her voice, which thankfully, no-one else picked up on.

"Good," Zero replied, as she saw the masked man draw a small pistol out from under his cape.

The red-headed girl shifted her hands to fully grip the controls of her Glasgow as she saw Zero raise his hand above his head, while Ohgi and the other Black Knights raised their submachine guns. Kallen felt her Glasgow rumble in to life, its own rifle raised ready.

"Now!" Zero cried, bringing his arm down in a chopping motion.

* * *

The rattling sound of gunfire rolled down through the dockyard, startling all the soldiers.

"What the hell?" Reynolds muttered from behind Ciaran, while the young Captain keyed his headset.

"Griffin One Actual, to all units: who's firing?"

"Command to Griffin One Actual," Darlton's voice came in, cutting off any reply that was about to come though. "Captain, none of our unit's are firing."

"Fuck," Ciaran swore under his breath before he spoke in to the headset again. "Do you think it's...?"

"It has to be." Darlton growled.

"Fuck," Ciaran swore before speaking in to his headset again. "Griffin One Charlie, Griffin One Delta: get your arses in gear! We're stepping up this operation. Corporal, get that door open, now!"

At the last command, the corporal across from him slung his rifle and drew out a small, compact shotgun. Ciaran remembered Darlton telling him shotguns were the only weapons to still use cordite propellant, making them the perfect breaching weapon since the noise scared the hell out of whoever was on the wrong side of them.

Swinging the weapon up, the Corporal held the shotgun's muzzle close to the door's hinges, before pulling the trigger. The loud bark of the firing weapon filled the world as it's round left the muzzle and entered through the hinges, shattering the metal and loosening the door from it's frame. The Corporal then stepped forward and hit the door with his foot, sending the wounded door smashing on to the ground.

"Flashbang out!" Reynolds called out, as he threw a small, cylindrical cannister through the open doorway. The doorway filled with the noise of a bang and smoke, immediately followed by cries of confusion from inside.

"Go, go, go!" Ciaran yelled out, as he followed the corporal to enter the building, rifle held ready. Inside the lit room, he saw around a dozen men, clustered around several tables, all dressed in civilian clothes, all carrying submachine guns, although many of them were sprawled on the floor groaning and holding their eyes or stumbling while covering their ears in pain.

All of them were Britannian.

"Britannian Military! Hands in the air, now!" Ciaran roared out as he advanced in to the large space, his eyes darting from man to man. Some of the men turned tail and ran, the only ones remaining being those incapacitated by the forceful entry.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ciaran saw a figure appear from behind a crate. The man pulled himself up and levelled his weapon, Ciaran seeing the man's face as a snarl. Spinning quickly, the young Captain centred the sights of his rifle on the man and pulled the trigger. His gun fired off a three-round burst, the rounds ripping through the would-be attackers arm and entering in to his chest. A small, ragged hole appeared in the man's torso and neck, sending him sprawling to the floor with a gurgling cry.

Ciaran watched with wide eyes as the man convulsed on the floor, blood coming from his mouth before he jerked a final time and lay still. The young man couldn't help but stare at the body on the floor, even as the other soldiers of the two fireteams entered the room behind him and fanned out.

"Captain?" Reynolds' voice drew him back in to the world. Ciaran turned to look at the man who then gestured over his shoulder to a group of soldiers restraining several of the drug smugglers. "Charlie team is extracting the prisoners, while Delta team is securing the perimeter. We're ready to advance on your word."

Ciaran didn't say anything except give a nod in reply before walking past the sergeant-major.

"We're moving forward, everyone." He heard Reynolds call out, the large man walking behind him. "Team Alpha is moving forward, Bravo team is staying here on standby."

A flurry of positive replies answered him as Ciaran walked around a large shelving unit. As he did, a large crash hit his ears, followed by various screams of fear. Picking up his speed, Ciaran ran past several more of the large shelves, Reynolds close on his heels as he made his to the largest space in the warehouse, the light fading away in to darkness. Slowing to a walk, Ciaran stepped and stared at what he saw.

A ragged hole was literally punched through the steel door, about two-hundred yards in front of him, in to the warehouse. Illuminated against the light coming from the hole was a Knightmare, an older generation Glasgow, painted in shades of crimson. In front of the machine though, various civilians were milling around, not playing any attention to the large machine or the soldiers, each one saying various things happily, although what, he couldn't tell.

"Oh, bloody hell." Ciaran muttered to himself as he saw the hand of the Glasgow reach forward to stop a passing woman from falling over, the sound of several but distant pairs of feet coming from behind him. A fusillade of heavy weapons fire from it's flank tore off it's right arm caught the pair by surprise.

"The Knightpolice?" A female-voice came from the Glasgow, as another Glasgow, painted in the colours customarily associated with the police emerged from behind one of the large shelves, a large machine pistol held in it's hand.

"So the police are in on this?" Reynolds asked, confusion plain in his voice before he and Ciaran dodge to the side to avoid being ran over the one armed red Glasgow as it sped past them, both men colliding with the floor hard.

"Damn right, they are." Ciaran said pushing himself off the floor as keyed his headset. Looking at the door, he saw a series of figures appear, all dressed in black uniforms with strangely visored hats, and one dressed in an ornate cape and mask.

"Zero." Reynolds muttered, seeing what Ciaran saw.

"Griffin One Actual to Griffin One: all team members avoid the Knightmares. I repeat: avoid the Knightmares. Follow the warehouse to my position. It's the Black Knights!" Changing the frequency on the headset, he opened the direct channel to Dorothea.

"Lady Dorothea. Looks like I'll be needing your help after all." The man said with a worried tone, as he readied his rifle.

* * *

The _Caradoc_ , Dorothea's custom Gloucester sped from it's holding point along the dockyard towards the combat. The _Caradoc_ was geared heavily towards close combat, it's rounded plates designed to let enemy attacks slide off, and it's stun tonfas replaced by heavy, triangular, double-edged blades. The last alteration being it's head, replacing the standard model head being replaced by a stylized eagle's head, like an old knight's helm.

"Say that again, Captain. What exactly am I facing in there?" Dorothea asked, her eyes following the route displayed on an inset screen on the main monitor.

"From the looks of it, a Glasgow and a Knightpolice. But be careful. There might be more." Captain Forsyth warned through the mic. Dorothea grimaced slightly as she heard the sound of gunfire echoing through the background. Pushing her controls forward, she pushed the _Caradoc_ onwards to it's destination.

After a few turns, she reached the designated warehouse. A group of soldiers stood around the wall of the building, seemingly ready to prepare to destroy the wall.

"My lady!" A voice came through on the Knightmare's radio. "Please wait just a few seconds more. We're almost ready to destroy the wall."

"That's too long. Move everyone out of the way!" Dorothea called over the loud speaker as she had the _Caradoc_ speed up, turning it's torso so it's shoulder would connect with the wall first. Which it did, with a shower of mortar, bricks and steel before sliding to a halt. Activating her Factsphere, she quickly assessed the local situation: Charlie team was removing a large number of civilians, both Britannian and Eleven, from the area. Although she noticed that it was only the former who were handcuffed. The Elevens were simply herded around.

"Lady Dorothea? Was that you just now?"

"Yes, Captain. Situation update?" Dorothea queried as she pushed the Caradoc past the soldiers and quickly but cautiously through the warehouse.

"Not much change. We've got the Black Knights pinned by their entrance point, but we can't push forward because they've got the area covered. No clue on the Knightmares though."

"Copy that." Dorothea replied, her eyes scanning the screen before her, the green tint enhancing what little light was available to give a clearer image of the inside of the warehouse. Rolling past one of the avenues, a warning alarm sounded inside the cockpit, Dorothea's instincts kicking in as she jerked the _Caradoc_ to the side, avoiding a burst of gunfire.

Jinking to the side, Dorothea unfolded her right wrist blade as a Knightpolice came in to view, a machine pistol held in it's hands as it began retreating away from it's target. Racing forward, the _Caradoc_ rolled from side to side as it's opponent continued firing, the pilot attempting to empty it's entire magazine in to the white Gloucester as it extended it's wrist blades. Drawing in front of the Knightpolice unit, Dorothea drew the _Caradoc_ in to a sideways spin, passing around her enemy's left side before driving the wrist blade directly in to the pilot block. The enemy pilot was instantly killed, his machine staying upright for a few seconds before slumping forward with a crash as Dorothea removed her blade and let it retract in to it's sheath.

"One down." Dorothea mused to herself before she sped the _Caradoc_ to Captain Forsyth's location.

She hadn't travelled far though when, drawing her Knightmare to a halt at what she saw on the other side of one of the large shelves: a one armed, red Glasgow speeding away from a Knightpolice unit. The red Knightmare was in a bad position: it's hull mounted machine gun was destroyed, and it's remaining arm was occupied with what appeared to be a bundle of cloth in it's hand.

Scanning the situation quickly, Dorothea locked her eyes on to her chosen target and sped around the corner at full speed.

* * *

"Damn it." Kallen swore loudly to herself as she pushed her Glasgow almost to it's limits, doing her best avoid the Knightpolice pursuing her and not to get the burden in her hand killed.

Burden. That truly was the best word to describe the drug-addled woman who was meant to be her mother that who lay limp in her Glasgow's remaining hand.

"You're in the way!" She called out inside the cockpit of her Knightmare, rolling the control pad to let her mother fall out of her grasp. But the woman didn't fall out of the metal hand, instead catching on the units fingers, rolling on to her back.

Again, feelings of hate and anger as she saw the limp face of her mother facing upwards. Seeing the face of the woman who had been so weak and selfish looking nothing more like a rag-doll...

"Damn it! I don't need you!" Kallen roared, the Glasgow lifting it's arm, ready to throw it's burden aside like the trash it was. "I don't want you!"

The Glasgow shuddered as the pursuing Knightpolice unit's machine pistol caught it's right leg, destroying the limb in a flurry of flying metal and flame. The red-painted machine tipped forward, slamming hard on to it's front, it's forward momentum sending it to scrape across the floor, sparking as it went. Luckily, the girl managed to remain upright. Looking through her main view-screen, Kallen saw that her mother had managed to survive the crash too, her limp form lying prone near the Glasgow's hand.

"Kallen... Naoto..." Kallen could just barely hear her mother's words before the Glasgow shook again from multiple impacts. The Knightpolice had reached her fallen machine and was now firing at it. And Kallen was incapable to do anything.

"No. Not like this." She closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable explosion.

The sound of rupturing metal reached her ears, Kallen's eyes jerking open. Looking over her shoulder at one of her rear facing view-screens, she saw a slash harken snaking backwards to a sleek, rounded white Knightmare, the opposing Knightpolice's right arm broken. The police unit turned, trying to reach for a second machine pistol holstered at it's waist.

The new Knightmare had another plan in mind however, as it raced forward, giving the Knightpolice a wide berth as it raced towards it's damaged right side. Kallen watched with rapt fascination as a wicked, triangular blade extended from the place where the machine's stun tonfas would have normally been as the new Knightmare sped forward, it's pilot's intent clear. The police unit tried to turn, raising it's arm, ready to fire.

The Knightpolice didn't manage to fire a single shot, the new machine closing the distance quicker than Kallen expected. With a fierce squeal of punctured steel and flying sparks, the triangular blade went straight through the police units chest, entering straight in to the cockpit. Even if the opponent was a member of the corrupt faction of the police, Kallen couldn't help but wince at the man's fate. Looking back at the victor, she saw the Knightpolice go limp, before the strange white Knightmare withdrew it's blade, letting it's slain opponent collapse to the floor with a crash.

Then it's head, the eagle-like head, turning to look at the fallen Glasgow, it's blank stare focusing on the cockpit block, as it took a step forward.

"To the pilot of the fallen Glasgow," A feminine, but stern voice called out. "My name is Dorothea Ernst, Knight of Four of the order of the Knights of the Round. I say this to you now: surrender."

Kallen's eyes opened in shock as the Knight continued speaking.

"Your Knightmare is too damaged for you to flee or fight. Surrender, and you have my word as a Knight that you will be treated fairly and honourably. However, if you choose to resist, I will have no choice but to end your life. You have half a minute to give your answer."

Kallen couldn't resist the shudder than ran through her body. She had just seen this woman, a Knight of the Round no less, beat a Knightpolice with the ease she had heard attributed to the Britannian Emperor's elite warriors. And she was being given the chance to surrender? She was conflicted about what she should do. She had sworn to fight alongside Zero, the masked revolutionary, to fight for the liberation of Japan.

But at the same time...

"I'm here for you." A softly spoken, female voice filled her cockpit. Turning to look at her main view-screen, Kallen's eyes widened as she saw her mother move to sit on her knees, her eyes staring at something in the distance that only she could see.

"Mother?"

"I'm here for you, Kallen. I'm here, as I always have been." Her mother said, a serene smile on her face as she stared in to the darkness of the warehouse.

"You stayed... for me?" Kallen said in disbelief.

"You have ten seconds." The Knight's voice came through again. The red-headed girl paid it no mind as her eyes welled up.

"You fool. You stayed for me? How could you be such a fool? … Or maybe I'm the fool."

"Your time is up. Your answer?"

Kallen glanced over her shoulder at the rear view-screen, watching the white Knightmare advance towards her with one of it's blades drawn, before looking back to her mother. She grit her teeth together.

'Forgive me, Zero.' She thought to herself before she activated her Glasgow's loud-hailer. "Wait."

The Knight of the Round stopped her advance.

"If I surrender, will you agree to listen to what I have to say?"

There was a short pause before the Knight responded. "On my honour as a Knight, I will listen to what you have to say."

Kallen sucked in a large lungful of air before exhaling. Reaching down, she pressed the button to open her cockpit, letting it open with a his before slowly stepping out with her hands above her head.

"Good choice." The female Knight said flatly over her loud-hailer as a squad of Britannian soldiers surrounded the fallen Glasgow, all their weapons trained on Kallen.

* * *

Racking the slide back on his rifle, Ciaran swung the weapon around the corner of the large box he was taking cover behind. Keeping the majority of his body behind cover, he leant the upper part of his torso round the corner, holding the rifle butt tight against his shoulder as he fired a short burst of gunfire. Even if the large expanse of the warehouse helped amplify the sound, the fast and tinny pops of the Britannian rifles and the Black Knight's submachine guns were starting to grate on his nerves.

Although they were no less annoying that his current opponent. The Black Knights hadn't advanced from their entry point, sticking close to the very edges of the torn and ruptured door and instead of centring their fire forwards, they crossed the paths of their projectiles, creating an overlapping field of fire. Even if their submachine guns lacked the range, the rate of fire more than made up for it.

Hearing the click of his magazine running empty, Ciaran swore as he pulled himself back in to cover, taking a fresh magazine out of one of the pouches on his chest and was in the process of inserting it in to his rifle before his radio crackled in to life. Bringing his hand up to his ear, he scratched at his right cheek to get rid of a small pain that had been bugging him for the last few minutes.

"Griffon Two Actual to Griffin One Actual. Captain Forsyth, do you read me? Over."

"I read you loud and clear, Griffin Two. Please tell me you have good news for me, my lady." Ciaran spoke in to his headset as he moved away from cover, his place being taken by another soldier.

"I've taken out two Knightpolice units, and I've not run into any more. Unless you have-"

"Which we haven't." Ciaran cut in.

"Then I've either taken out the police support or they're running scared." Ciaran was certain that Dorothea was smiling as she spoke. "Also, I have taken out the Black Knight's Glasgow."

"You're shitting me?" Ciaran said in disbelief, forgetting for the moment that he was talking to a Knight of the Round. Luckily, Dorothea only laughed, the sound cutting through the gunfire.

"No, I am serious, Captain. She's currently being taken in to custody. How are things on your end?"

"We've got ourselves a bit of an impasse, but it's nothing worth you bringing your Knightmare. We've got the civilians out, so that's my immediate concern done with."

"Captain!" A nearby soldier called out.

"I'll get back to you as soon as. Griffin One Actual, Out." Ciaran said, switching off his headset as he turned to move towards the soldier who had called out to him, joining him in cover behind a large steel crate. "What's up, soldier?"

"Look, sir." The soldier said, pointing around the crate. Leaning out gingerly, Ciaran couldn't help but let a smile come to his face. On the right side of the hole, he could clearly see Zero, pistol clutched in his hand, directing his underlings as they melted away from the hole. Two of them remained behind, laying down a suppressive barrage to keep the Britannians at bay.

"Looks like they're running, sir!" Sergeant-major Reynolds called out, a grin plain on his face.

"Don't get too cocky, sergeant-major. But still," Ciaran called out in return as he checked over his rifle again, racking the slide back in to the ready position before letting it snap back, before speaking in to his head-set again, "Listen up: Griffin One Bravo will be staying here as the rearguard. I want to two men from Griffin One Alpha ready with grenades, stun grenades only. Reynolds, you and four men will give covering fire for me and four the remaining two men. Get ready. We're ending this tonight!"

All the soldiers roared their agreement before they moved to their ready positions. As ordered, two soldiers took out one grenade each, both a cylindrical stun grenade, from their pouches, and pulled the pins ready.

Ciaran stared intently down the corridor between the two large shelving units at the ruined steel door, watching the small band of terrorists slip away. Between Zero and the two holding the door, there were four more people heading towards the exit.

"Now!" He roared out, as the two soldiers lobbed their grenades at the door. A few seconds later, they both detonated, covered the hole in a blanket of smoke which soon flashed with intermittent flashes.

"Come on, you Britannian bastards!" Ciaran yelled out again, his rifle clutched tightly in his hands as he ran full pelt towards the door. Behind him, he heard the soldiers give him a cheer as Reynolds and his team fired their rifles towards the door. His blood was pounding in his ears so loudly, that Ciaran was oblivious to all sounds around him. He couldn't hear the tinny pop of the guns, nor the loud roar that came from his lips.

* * *

Running down one of the alleys, Lelouch nearly slipped forward as his foot came down on a puddle of water. He quickly righted himself though, pushing himself off the ground in one fluid motion.

Why didn't he think to have the shoes in his Zero outfit built for running? A commander is never truly safe on a battlefield. He should have remembered that from what Cornelia had told him when he was younger.

Even though his breath circulated loudly through his helmet, he could steel hear the heavy impacts of military issue boots on concrete as his pursuer gained the distance between the two. Lelouch was a failure at physical education, anyone could tell you that, but right now, he was running faster and longer than he ever thought possible. Adrenaline was pumping through his system, and he was terrified, he had to admit to himself.

'What were the chances?' He thought to himself as he dodged around a pile of oil drums. 'What were the chances that the enemy commander would charge in to the fray himself?'

Even he believed that the king should lead from the front, but to do so in such a manner. To come charging out through the smoke left by the stun grenades, roaring and hollering like a madman. Lelouch applauded his own decision to order Tamaki and Sugiyama to pull back when he first heard the grenades impact on the ground. But even if he hadn't, he knew they'd have fled when that man came through the smoke.

'And it had to be him!' Lelouch yelled in to his head as he turned a corner, dodging his way past the various debris before him. The Royal Guardsman who had been with Suzaku little over a week ago. The one who was resistant to his Geass!

Running as fast as his legs could carry him, Lelouch turned another corner before he spied a glimmer of salvation. Ahead of him, no less than twenty metres away, the open door to a warehouse loomed like the dark maw of a grotesque beast, ready to swallow him whole.

"Do I dare go in?" Lelouch breathlessly asked himself, looking at the open hole. The sound of encroaching footfalls made his mind up for him as he dashed inside.

As soon as he was inside, he ducked to the side of the door and waited for a few seconds, letting his eyes adjust to the lack of light in the building. Inside, it was a mess: crates, boxes and beams lay haphazardly across the floor, some stacked at angles which would likely have made any self-respecting supervisor go mad. Picking his way quickly but carefully through the detritus, Lelouch pushed forward towards the other side of the warehouse, intent on finding the exit.

However, reaching the opposite of the building, Lelouch's heart dropped in to his stomach: it was a dead end. Looking around, the exiled Britannian prince clutched at his helmet with both hands.

'Trapped! Like a common zoo animal!' He screamed in his head, as he heard the footfalls slowly enter the warehouse. Looking around in a panic, Lelouch spied an open crate that faced away from the open door. Moving quickly, the teenager tucked his body as tightly as he could in to the metal container, wrapping his cloak around him so as he heard the footfalls stop. The sound of rustling equipment reached his ears, before he heard the soldier begin his advance in to the room. Looking through the opening, he saw a beam of light sweep across the far wall several times, each pass growing in intensity.

Lelouch steadied his breathing as best as he could, his sweat soaking in to his face mask. He had trapped himself, and he hadn't even realized it. Seconds ticked away like hours as the sound of the boots drew closer. Lelouch slowly drew himself back in the crate, trying to push himself further away from the entrance of the crate as the man's footsteps drew closer.

"Command to Griffin One Actual? Griffin One Actual, do you hear me? Over."

Lelouch let his head drop forward in relief as he heard the man mutter angrily to himself before answering his crackling radio.

"Griffin One Actual to Command. What's the matter?"

"Captain, I'm ordering a full recall. The mission's over, son. Move to Muster Point 9."

Lelouch waited, intent on hearing what the man would say. He could hear him grinding his boot heel in annoyance before the soldier let out a sigh.

"Copy that, General. I'm making my way back. ETA... probably about ten minutes. Over and out."

Lelouch let out a quiet sigh as he heard the footsteps recede then disappear from the warehouse, leaving him alone in complete darkness again. He waited for a minute or two longer before he pulled himself from the crate, his legs sore from the run and the climb in to his hiding hole.

Making his way cautiously out of the door, he glanced around. Assured that the area was clear, Lelouch walked away from the warehouse, activating his radio to contact the Black Knights.

This night had not gone to plan at all.

* * *

Walking down the space between the warehouses, Ciaran let his feet slow down before he reached a full stop. His breathing changed from a slow steady rhythm to a faster speed. He could feel his throat dry out and the clench up and relax intermittently.

Reaching his hand out to rest against a wall, he nearly stumbled sideways as he felt the adrenaline leave him, before doubling over and vomiting on to the floor. The horrible retching sound filled the alleyway as he seemed intent on emptying his stomach. Soon, he stopped before letting his head rest against the side of the building, the concrete pushing his hat off his head to fall to the floor. Ciaran's breathing came out hoarsely, his throat feeling like it was on fire.

Pushing himself from the way, the young Captain reached down to recover his hat, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve before making his way to the muster point. The sounds of bustling soldiers as they moved their equipment around quickly assaulted his ears, but he paid it no mind. He didn't even respond straight away as the first soldiers came up to him, congratulating him and patting him on the back.

"Good job, Captain!" That was the phrase that snapped him in to the world, as looking around, Ciaran saw himself surrounded by the same group of men he'd gone in to the warehouse with. Their helmets and masks were removed, showing the joy on their faces. Even Reynolds' face had a broad smile on it, except he just stood with his arms crossed across his chest.

"Bloody good job, sir," the large man said before the smile dropped slightly from his face. "Your cheek is bleeding."

Reaching up, Ciaran wiped his hand against both his cheeks. The left was clean while his hand came away slightly red from his right cheek.

"Huh. I never noticed." Ciaran said flatly, as Reynolds let a white helmeted medic move past him to attend to the cut.

"You must have got it during the fire-fight, sir." One of the soldiers chimed in as the medic applied a small square of gauze over the cut.

"Yeah, probably," Ciaran said with a small smile before looking around. "Well, haven't you got something you should all be doing? Sergeant-major, get these men moving! I want to get back to the palace as soon as."

"All right, you heard the Captain," Reynolds said, a smile coming to his face even as his voice took on the harsh tones of a veteran drill instructor. "Get your gear stowed and get ready to move out. You have ten minutes!"

The soldiers scattered at the sergeant's orders, those closest to the young captain giving him some final words of congratulation before Ciaran made to walk past the large sergeant-major who soon fell in to step beside him.

"How are you feeling, sir?" Reynolds asked, keeping his voice low.

"I'm all right, sergeant-major," Ciaran said, not bothering to look at the man beside him. "If it's all right with you, can I leave the details of the withdrawal to you?"

"Not a problem, Captain." Reynolds said, nodding his head before saluting, Ciaran returning the salute. He didn't say anything as he moved away from the military forces, weaving around the various personnel going about their duties until he made it out of the muster point. He let his feet carry him forward, until he found himself in dark segment of the docks between two of the warehouses. Walking forward, he soon found himself in the dark again. Before he knew it, he found himself sitting on a small crate, his head buried in his hands, his hat once more falling off his head.

He was so wrapped in his little world that he didn't hear the feminine voice calling his name and rank.

* * *

Leaving the harsh lights of the Britannian force behind, Dorothea slowed her pace from a quick jog to a walk as she came towards the large buildings. Pausing to let her sight adjust to the lack of light, she zeroed in one of the alleyways between the two closest buildings.

"Captain Forsyth?," She said softly as she walked towards the first alley. "Ciaran, are you in here?"

The young officer had disappeared after Darlton's call for him to return to muster, but he hadn't appeared at the command trailer, causing the General to become alarmed. He couldn't go out and look for the man himself, so Dorothea had volunteered to go and look for him herself. She had seen this before: men who had gotten their first taste of combat and had broken under the pressure.

Peering inside, her emerald eyes could make out a few distinct shapes: stacked boxes near both walls, various bits of litter and a person sitting on a box, slumped forward, their head resting in their hands.

Walking inside the alley, Dorothea drew closer to the young man. The alley's position shielded them from the noise down on the harbour, allowing her to hear the man's ragged breathing as she came close to him. Slowly, she reached a hand out and placed it on his shoulder. If he had felt her hand, he didn't show it. He only buried his head deeper in to his hands.

"How are you feeling?" It was a stupid question, given the young man's current state, but if it would get him to talk, it would help.

Ciaran was silent for a few seconds before he spoke. "I threw up." His voice was hoarse.

Smiling softly, Dorothea put her hand in to a pouch on her belt and drew out some biscuits, the same kind she had given to him in the garage.

"Here." She said, gently pulling one of his hands away from his head and placing the food in his open palm. This got Ciaran's attention as he let his other arm drop, turning his head to look at the biscuit before looking up at the Dorothea. In the dim light, she could see him give a small smile before taking a small bite out of the biscuit.

"Mind if I sit with you?" She asked, to which Ciaran responded by shifting to the side gently on the box. The container he was on wasn't large by any stretch, but Dorothea didn't mind as she sat down beside him, not taking her hand off his shoulder. They sat in silence for a while, the only noteworthy sounds coming from the soldiers at the harbour and the man eating the biscuit beside her.

"Feeling better?" Dorothea asked, turning to look at the young man beside him. He had finished his biscuit and seemed to be simply staring at something at the base of the wall in front of him.

"I'm fine. Considering I took a man's life, I'm... peachy." The young man said before putting his head in to his hands, a shuddering sigh making his frame tremble.

Dorothea didn't say anything in reply. She just let her hand rub over his shoulders. Reaching over with her other hand, she took a hold of his other shoulder and pulled him close, letting his head rest against her shoulder. Raising her hand up, she began stroking his hair softly. They stayed like that for a few seconds more, but to them it felt like eternity. Unknowingly, Dorothea began rocking her body gently back and forth.

"It's all right to feel this way, Ciaran," Dorothea said gently, her voice no louder than a whisper. "There's no shame in it."

His voice ragged and hoarse, Ciaran tried to protest. "But I..."

"No," Dorothea cut in, her voice still soft. "No, you don't have to say anything."

Ciaran didn't protest. Instead he just burrowed his head in to the shoulder of her pilot suit. Dorothea was certain she could feel tears seeping in to the fabric, but she didn't care though. She just continued rocking her body gently back and forth as she carried on stroking his hair.

"Are you feeling better?" Dorothea asked gently.

A nod came as a reply, but neither person made a move to come out of the embrace. Reluctantly, Ciaran pulled himself off Dorothea's shoulder before letting out a shuddering breath.

"Thank you for that." The young man said, not looking Dorothea in the face, causing a frown to come to the woman's face.

"Hey." She said, taking hold of Ciaran's face and turning it to face hers. "Don't feel you need to bottle up your feelings on this." Using her thumbs, she gently rubbed his face, the left thumb brushing over the patch of gauze on his right cheek. "You should be proud of yourself tonight."

"I don't feel proud of myself."

Dorothea shook her head. "No, you should feel proud of yourself. You helped take down a drug ring along with a corrupt element in the police, and it was under your leadership that we captured the Knightmare pilot of the Black Knights, and with minimal loss of life to civilians and our soldiers. If that's not something to be proud of, then I don't know what is."

Not taking her hands from his cheeks, she carried on speaking.

"You showed courage and strength that, even in the Britannian army, is hard to find. Even your reaction just now proves that Darlton's faith in you is well placed. And so is mine." The last words were said with the same kindness she began with.

If Ciaran had any response, it died in his throat, his mouth opening and closing softly. Leaning forward, Dorothea moved her hands to his shoulders as she kissed him softly on his uninjured cheek, before standing up.

"I think Darlton will be looking for us right about now. I'll go on ahead. Here." She leant down and picked up the young captain's fallen cap, setting it gently on his head. "Smarten yourself up before you come out." She shot him another smile before walking out of the alley towards the bright lights.

Drawing closer to the crowd, Dorothea saw Darlton talking to the sergeant-major she knew was the man seconded to Ciaran, both standing behind the rear of an APC. Glancing over, the pair fell silent as Dorothea walked over to them.

"How is he?" Darlton asked.

"He's fine." Dorothea said, putting her hands on her hips as she looked down. "I think he's taken it quite hard though."

The general sighed as he put his palm against his head. "It's my fault. I knew it was too early for him to be out in the field."

"With all due respect, General," The sergeant-major spoke up. "He handled himself well tonight. Even if it was his first time, he didn't let that death stop him."

"You may say that, sergeant, but I think only time will tell how hard it's really hit him." Dorothea said as a reply, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Agreed." Darlton said, nodding his head before looking past Dorothea. "Captain."

Turning around, Dorothea was greeted with the sight of Captain Forsyth standing a few feet behind her, his hat set squarely on his head and his hands clasped behind his back at parade rest.

"General. My lady." He replied, nodding his head to both.

"Head on over to the command trailer, captain," Darlton said, not taking his eyes from the young man. "I'll debrief you on the way back to the palace."

"Yes, sir." Ciaran said with a short salute before walking away from the trio, Dorothea's eyes following him as he walked away.

"Is your after-action report written out, Lady Dorothea?" The Knight of Four heard Darlton ask as soon as the young man was out of sight. Turning around, she gave the large man a curt nod of her head.

"All right then. Sergeant-major Reynolds had given me his report, so we'll head off ahead of the main group."

"You're not contacting the Princess from here, sir?" Sergeant-major Reynolds asked, confused.

"No, she stressed that as soon as we finish this operation that she wants to debrief us in person back at the palace."

Reynolds nodded his head before saluting General Darlton before leaving the two high ranking personnel to make their way back to the command trailer.

* * *

After delivering a short message from the command trailer to say that the mission had been completed, Darlton, Dorothea and Ciaran waited for a few minutes before a small VTOL transport flew in to a prepared landing zone. Climbing aboard, the trio were strapped in quickly before the transport climbed in to the sky towards the Tokyo Settlement. Flight time was only about three hours, the lights coming through the windows of the vehicle in the sides.

The VTOL landed on the same platform that the two Knights of the Round arrived on, the occupants departing quickly to avoid the downward blast from the VTOL's still running engines, the aircraft departing the platform as the two officers and the Knight reached the elevator to enter the Palace proper.

Exiting the elevator, the trio saw Lord Guilford standing near the wall of the hallway they exited in to. The bespectacled Knight silently directed them to Princess Cornelia's main office, the group walking in silence before they entered the office.

* * *

Sitting behind her desk, a small pile of folders in front of her, Cornelia peered intently over the folded hands at the three people before her. Captain Forsyth, General Darlton and Lady Dorothea all stood at parade rest, their backs straight and hands clasped behind their backs, eyes fixed straight ahead. To the side, Euphemia, Guilford and Nonette stood still waiting for her to speak.

"Firstly, let me congratulate you three." The Princess began, her indigo eyes sweeping over the three before her. "As you know, after the foul-up that was the Lake Kawaguchi Incident, we have had little success against the subversive elements in Area 11. But tonight, you all changed that."

She paused to let her words sink in. Darlton let a small smirk come to his face, while Dorothea and Ciaran remained stone-faced. Cornelia continued speaking.

"The actions you three carried out tonight have helped us twofold: One," The Princess raised her index finger, "We have finally put a stop to the Kyushu Route or, one the outside change, have a least severely crippled it's ability to transport and distribute Refrain.

"And two," Her second finer raised to join the first, "We have also finally dealt a blow to Zero. We have captured one of their number, a Knightmare pilot too. Judging from the intelligence gathered in the wake of the Shinjuku Skirmish, we can safely assume that this... girl is indeed the Black Knight's ace pilot. Although from what Lord Guilford has told me, she is being quite uncooperative in telling us what we need to know."

Looking over, she saw Guilford nod in way of a reply, before turning back to face the trio.

"Your highness?" Dorothea asked, drawing her attention.

"Yes, Lady Dorothea?"

"Your highness, I think I should say that after taking the Glasgow pilot in to custody, I agreed to listen to her demands."

"And?" Cornelia asked, leaning forward, intent to listen to what the dark-skinned Knight of Four had to say.

"When I took her captive, I was told by her that the woman who was taken in to custody along with her was her biological mother."

Cornelia couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the revelation, as did everyone else in the room, Darlton and Ciaran turning to look at her in shock.

"And the reason for mentioning this is...?" Cornelia asked.

It was to her surprise that Ciaran spoke in response. "Your highness, I think that Lady Dorothea is suggesting that we be lenient towards this woman. And I have to agree with her."

Cornelia leant back. "Do you really think so, Captain?"

"I do, Princess. I do feel that being harsh on this woman, and Refrain users in general, may send the wrong message to the... to the Elevens, your highness."

Cornelia noted the hesitance with which he said the word 'Eleven', but she didn't say anything against it. "And what message would that be?"

"That yourself and the Britannian rulers are tyrants. They fear you, but they hate you too, and that's not a good combination."

Cornelia couldn't help but roll her eyes at the statement. It was right out of one of her brother Schneizel's favourite books, The Prince by Machiavelli.

"So what do you suggest we do instead, Captain?" The Princess asked, intent on what he would say.

"I suggest that we keep the time frame for the sentence on drug use, but I think we should also give them actual aid to kick any addiction they have to Refrain. If they prove successful, we reduce the sentence."

Out of the corner of her eye, Cornelia saw Euphemia clap her hands together, a smile on her face.

"That's an excellent idea!" The pink princess said, and Cornelia couldn't help but smile at her younger sister's outburst.

Looking at the young man before her, she let a sly smile come to her face. "I'll definitely give your idea a thought, Captain."

Ciaran nodded in reply before she spoke up again. "And tacking on to that, I am pleased to say that your promotion has been fully gazetted. Congratulations. You're a full captain now."

If Cornelia expected a reaction, it wasn't Ciaran's face remaining a stoic mask.

"Good to hear." Was his only reply, causing Cornelia to furrow her eyebrows, while to the side, Nonette, Euphemia and Guilford shared a confused look.

"Would everyone please give me and Captain Forsyth some privacy?" She asked politely, but her tone brokered no argument. Leaving the young man standing alone, the other occupants of the room made their way towards the exit. As they moved away from him, Cornelia saw Darlton and Dorothea share a concerned look before they moved to exit through the door.

The click of the closing door sounded like a gunshot in the large room, but neither Cornelia or the young Captain paid it any attention. The princess merely stayed seated at her desk while the young man across from her remained standing. Leaning forward, Cornelia put one of her hands on to the small pile of folders in front of her.

"I've got some after action reports here, from General Darlton, Lady Dorothea and a Sergeant-Major Reynolds. Do you know what they tell me?"

"No, your highness." The man before her replied smartly.

Reaching over, Cornelia opened the file on the top. "Sergeant-Major Reynolds says that when the Black Knight's Glasgow entered the warehouse, you 'kept your calm and ordered a retreat to better cover, while giving the order to cover to the civilians present in the area'."

Ciaran didn't reply so she opened the second folder.

"Lady Dorothea, in her report, mentions that during the ensuing combat, you called her Knightmare in to combat the Glasgow while you ordered your fireteams to engage the Black Knights."

No reply. Cornelia opened the final folder.

"General Darlton saves the most interesting for last. He says that, after the Glasgow was subdued, you yourself went off in pursuit of Zero yourself, on foot. Granted, you obviously did not succeed, but it's still an impressive feat."

"If you say so, your highness." Ciaran replied smartly.

Sighing, Cornelia leaned back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Okay, what's wrong, Ciaran?"

"Nothing, your highness." The man replied, his voice level and professional. "Now, if there's nothing else, your highness?"

Cornelia slammed a fist down on to the table as she leant forward violently, her face twisted in to a look of anger. "Damn it, Captain! Answer me."

If he was surprised, the man didn't show it. He kept his eyes on the princess, before he closed them, sucking air in through his nose.

"Do you want to know what's wrong, Princess?" Ciaran spoke, his voice gently rising in volume. "Well, I'm sorry, but if you're trying to make me feel pride in last night's operation, I'm afraid I can't do that because I fucking killed a man!"

Cornelia didn't say anything, taken aback by the man's outburst.

"I took another man's life! I know as a soldier, that's my job. But I... I just can't deal with the fact that I shot someone! I'm not a killer, but I... I..." Ciaran's voice trailed off as he brought one of his hands up to his head, gripping his hair tightly. "How can I... How can I..."

The young man's strength left his legs as he dropped to his knees. Pushing her chair back, Cornelia quickly walked around the desk to stand before Ciaran's kneeling form.

"Ciaran?"

"How can I feel proud about killing a man?" Ciaran croaked out, his voice becoming hoarse as his second hand came up to his head. Sighing softly, Cornelia knelt down and placed her hands on his shoulders, causing him to look up. The Princess could see that his eyes were beginning to water.

"Ciaran," Cornelia began, kneeling down to bring her face level with his. "No-one is trying to make you feel proud for taking another life. I'd never force a man under me to do so. Only the very worst people feel proud for committing such an act. You should feel proud for carrying out your mission so well."

A short, hoarse chuckle surprised Cornelia as she saw Ciaran's face turn to a grin. "Dorothea said the same thing."

This made Cornelia smile softly and nod. "I imagine she did. And she's not wrong."

Ciaran didn't say anything in reply, except to bring his hand up to wipe the built up tears from his eyes.

"Euphemia told me about your little conversation with her the day after you arrived."

"She did?" The young man asked, looking up at the Princess, a slight look of shock in his eyes. Cornelia nodded before she continued speaking.

"She told me about how you don't have a family and about how she said that we'd be your family in their stead."

"So she did." Ciaran said flatly.

"And to be honest... I'm not against the idea." This made Ciaran's brow furrow in confusion so Cornelia carried on.

"I don't know how it must feel to be ripped away from your family. I've been lucky, even with the loss of Lady Marianne and her children, to have kept Euphemia close and to have found companionship in Darlton, Guilford and Nonette, hard as that may be to believe. To have gone through this whole ordeal, being sent to this world and to have gone through all of the various things I have put you through, I can only imagine what sort of strain that must have put on you. But I don't want you to think you can go through this all alone."

Shifting her position, Cornelia moved to rest on both her knees.

"You aren't alone, Ciaran. I want you to know that. Everyone you know here, everyone of us, will be with you. We'll look after you and help you through any troubles you come across. On the day we met, I swore that no-one would hurt you."

Releasing her hold on one of the man's shoulders, the Princess moved her hand to hold it over her heart.

"I, Cornelia li Britannia, swear to you now: you will not be abandoned, not by myself nor by anyone here. You are a soldier, yes, so Darlton and I will give you orders, but that does not mean we do not care for you. As I said, I do care for you as a brother. I may not be able to show it at times, but I do care. Believe me."

Ciaran didn't say anything in reply, his head dropping low again and the soft sounds of sobbing coming from him again. Leaning forward, Cornelia wrapped her arms around his shoulders and brought him in to a hug.

"Thank you." The young man croaked out as he pressed his head in to her shoulders. "Thank you, Princess."

"You can call me Cornelia, Ciaran." The princess replied, rubbing his shoulders lightly.

"Thank you... Cornelia." A smile came to Cornelia's face, before she moved out of the hug. Ciaran moved away without reluctance, his cheeks and eyes red, but an unremitting smile plain on his face.

Moving to stand up, Cornelia cupped Ciaran's chin to tilt his head up. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his forehead in a gentle kiss before helping the young man stand, taking a handkerchief out of a pocket.

Ciaran took the offered fabric and proceeded to wipe his eyes with it. He moved it give it back, but Cornelia shook her head.

"Feeling better?"

A nod came as a reply. "Yes. Thank you, Cornelia."

"Now try and get some sleep, Ciaran." Cornelia said, giving the young man's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, before the man turned to leave the room. Before he reached the threshold, Ciaran turned around.

"Good night, Cornelia."

The Princess only smiled in return as she watched Ciaran leave the door, only opening her mouth when she heard the door click closed.

"Sleep tight, Ciaran. As well as you can."

* * *

It wasn't to Ciaran's surprise that in the hallway outside of Cornelia's office, Darlton, Euphemia and Dorothea stood in uneasy silence in a small huddle close to small table. At the sound of the door being opened and closed, the heads of all three snapped up to focus on him.

"Ciaran!" Euphemia called out, quickly closing the distance between the two. She stopped short, unsure of what to do before wrapping her arms around Ciaran's chest. Without hesitation, Ciaran put his arms around the pink Princess' slight frame.

"How are you feeling, lad?" Darlton asked, stepping closer. Letting his face peek around Euphemia's large head of hair, Ciaran gave him a sincere smile.

"Better, sir. Princess Cornelia told me some words I really needed to hear."

This made Darlton and Dorothea smile while Euphemia tightened her hug.

"I'm glad to hear that, Ciaran." Euphemia squeaked out softly, tilting her head to look at the man's face. The smile on Ciaran's face was infectious to the young princess as her face morphed from a worried look in to face of glee. The princess then devolved in to a small giggling fit as Ciaran opened his mouth wide and let out an almost leonine yawn.

"Wow. I am shattered." The man said, sounding surprised, causing the Britannians to chuckle loudly.

"I guess it is late," Darlton said. "We should all head to bed."

Dorothea nodded her head. "Indeed. Well, good night to you then, Captain, General, your highness."

The two officers and the princess bade their good nights as well as the group split to go to each of their rooms. It was by sheer circumstance that Ciaran and Dorothea had to walk in the same direction to go to their respective rooms. Drawing closer to his own room, Ciaran stopped to say good night to the Knight of Four again.

"Good night, Ciaran." Dorothea replied before walking to her room, Ciaran entering his own room. Closing the door behind him, the young man removed his clothes and set them on to the couch that was against the side of the room. Tiredness made him forego anything else, so Ciaran climbed in to his bed.

Sleep did not come easily.

* * *

 **AN: Whoof. This chapter took a VERY long time. Again, I need to give my thanks to A.D. Fields for helping me out with this chapter. Big props to you man.**

 **This is also the longest chapter I've written (so far) for A Brave New World and I assume it won't be the last.**

 **Also, if you were expecting something to go down between the MC and Zero... you're going to have to wait for a later chapter. Hehe.**

 **Not much else I can really say on this. Although I think I could have done Kallen's scenes just a bit better. But hey, there's always next time.**

 **So again: read, enjoy and review. Toddles!**


	12. Chapter 12

Giving her long purple hair one final brush, Cornelia gave herself a final once over before standing up from the chair in front the small desk in her bedroom. Normally, she'd have had one of her personal maids do her hair and what little make-up she wore or even have Euphie do it for her, but on the occasions where she needed to be alone with her thoughts, she felt it was the perfect time and place to think. Over the past few days, the Princess had spent several mornings alone with her thoughts.

Her talk the previous night with Ciaran was still playing on her mind. The young man's reaction to her revelation that she considered him a brother was something that made a sad smile come to her face. The fact that Ciaran had been reduced to tears showed how vulnerable he truly was in this world.

Looking at the small clock on the table, she let out a sigh at the time.

7:45

Leaving the table behind, Cornelia departed her bedroom. She wore her regular dark maroon outfit, although she forewent the cape this time, as she made her way down the hallway to the dining room. The various maids, butlers and guards she passed bowed in respect, Cornelia nodding her head in return. Reaching the dining room, the two butlers opened the door soundlessly. Walking through the threshold, her indigo eyes settled on the man sitting in the chair with his back to her.

"Good morning, Ciaran." Cornelia said as she made her to sit at her chair. "You're up early." With a start, the young man turned his head to look her in the face, a half-eaten piece of toast held in his hand. She couldn't help but furrow her brow at what she saw. The dark circles around his eyes had deepened slightly and his eyes were bloodshot, showing that he hadn't managed to sleep well during the night. The square of gauze on his right cheek from last night had been replaced by a fresh one.

"How did you sleep?" The Princess asked. "Although, if you don't mind me saying, I think I can already guess."

The young man shrugged resignedly. "As well as you'd imagine. I think I only managed about... three or four hours, to be honest."

Cornelia nodded in understanding. "I know this might sound clichéd but you will eventually come to terms with what happened. Trust me."

"I do, Cornelia." Ciaran said with a smile before taking another bite of his toast. A maid approached the table, a single glass of orange juice balanced on a tray, which she placed next to the young man. Ciaran picked the drink up, but before he could put it to his lips, Cornelia's hand shot forward, taking the glass away from him. Bringing it up to her lips, she took a quick sip.

"All right then." She said after swallowing the liquid, putting the glass back down on the table top. Ciaran's eyebrow was raised in confusion at the scene that had just played out before him.

"What was...? Why did you test my drink?" He asked, picking the glass up and looking in to it like he expected to find the answer in it. Cornelia looked away from the man to look across the room.

"I was just... making sure my suspicion wasn't correct." She said, not wanting to actually admit the truth of what she had thought.

"Did... did you think I had them put alcohol in this?" Ciaran asked, his voice coming out in a shocked tone. Cornelia could only shrug in embarrassment. Mentally, she prepared herself for a retort of some magnitude. So she was surprised when she heard Ciaran begin to chuckle, which morphed in to a full blown laugh, his back colliding solidly with the back of his chair.

"I think it's because of the lack of sleep, but that's fucking funny!" The man said, pounding his fist on the table, making the cutlery jump slightly. Cornelia was aghast for a few seconds before her face too morphed in to a smile, a small chuckle coming to her lips.

A few seconds later, Ciaran finished his laughing fit, wiping a tear from his eye as he calmed down.

"Oh, I needed that laugh." The young man said absent-mindedly before taking a small swig from his glass.

"It's good to see you laughing, Ciaran." Cornelia said, reaching over and putting her hand on top of his, giving her young companion a soft smile, which he returned. "It's always good to have a proper laugh now and again."

"It is, Cornelia." Ciaran said with a nod of his head, moments before the large door opened, and the form of a very tried Euphemia walked in, rubbing the sleep from one eye.

"Morning." The young princess yawned as a greeting, Cornelia and Ciaran responding in kind as she made her way to sit down on Cornelia's left, the same butler from their first breakfast together coming to take her order.

Soon, the others began to trickle in. First was Darlton by himself, taking his customary place on Ciaran's right hand side, before Guilford followed in a few minutes later. Normally, Cornelia's knight would be seated next to Euphemia however, with the arrival of Nonette and Dorothea, his seat was now next to the scarred general. Lastly, came in the two Knights of the Round, an obviously sleep Nonette, seeming to do her best impression of a zombie, following Dorothea as they moved around the table.

"G'morning." The champagne-haired woman mumbled out as she took her seat. Cornelia couldn't help but smile slightly at the seating arrangement. Barring herself, all of the women were seated on her left while all the men were seated on her right.

"How are you this morning, Captain?" Guilford asked after taking a sip from his coffee.

"I've been better, my lord." The young man replied before taking quickly finishing his piece of toast. Glancing over, the Second Princess' gaze met with Darlton's, the large man giving her a barely noticeable nod.

"Actually, Captain, that does tack on to what something I wanted to discuss with you." Cornelia said, using the young man's rank to draw his full attention.

"Cor... My lady?" The man catching himself from saying her name, but Cornelia ignored it and carried on speaking.

"After a short discussion with General Darlton, I have decided that in light of your exemplary performance during the drug raids in Kitakyushu, you've been granted a week of leave to recover and recuperate yourself."

Everyone at the table turned to look at the princess before looking at the young man seated near her. Cornelia knew that her words were far too textbook, although she was certain that Euphemia wouldn't have noticed, but she knew for certain that the others did.

"A full week?" Ciaran asked, obviously confused by the situation, as he shifted uncomfortably on his chair.

"I'm afraid so, Captain."

"So..." Ciaran said, falling back in his chair, a look of slight disbelief on his face. "Where does that leave me?"

"You've got a holiday, you lucky sod." Nonette drawled out before taking a drink from her coffee, causing Cornelia to narrow her eyes at the outburst.

"A bit blunt, but Lady Nonette is correct. It essentially means you have a holiday." Darlton spoke up.

"Oh, how lovely!" Euphemia called out, clapping her hands together. "You'll be able to go out in to the Settlement properly now."

Cornelia nodded, and for everyone at that table, that seemed to be the end of the conversation. So she was surprised when Ciaran leant towards her slightly, gesturing minutely for her to listen. Leaning down, she moved her head as discreetly as she could to avoid the others getting suspicious.

"There's one problem. I've got no money." The young man whispered, causing Cornelia's eyes to shoot open in shock. Outwardly, she didn't show it, but inwardly, she was mentally berating herself.

'The one thing we didn't discuss...'

"If your having money troubles," Darlton's bass whisper caught both their attention, "I'll help you out, Ciaran."

"What are you three whispering about?" Nonette asked, her voice causing the three people to turn their heads as they sat back up straight.

"Nothing of concern, Lady Nonette. Just ironing out some details for our young friend's holiday." Cornelia replied as various maids came in with breakfast trays.

* * *

Breakfast was eaten in relative silence, the only words being spoken occasionally something from the still sleepy Nonette. Their meals finished, everyone began to disperse, Dorothea agreeing to help Euphemia with the paperwork in Ciaran's place, which meant leaving either Cornelia or Darlton at Nonette's mercy for the rest of the day.

Gesturing for Ciaran to follow, Darlton excused himself and the young man from the room before making their way to the general's office. Entering the room, Ciaran wasn't too surprised by what he saw inside: both walls were lined with numerous framed photos of men in uniform standing next to various vehicles, some framed medals and several different weapons hanging from the wall. Sabres, swords of various makes and periods and even a few rifles.

"You've got quite a collection here, sir. I have to say, I'm a little bit jealous." The young man said in amazement as he walked further in to the room, Darlton taking his seat behind his desk.

"Really?" Darlton asked in surprise, to which Ciaran nodded in reply.

"Really. I always did like swords and such."

"I'll make sure to remember that in the future," Darlton said as opened one of the drawers in his desk. "But I believe we have a problem with your pay that needs sorting out."

Reaching down, the general removed a thick brown envelope, holding it for Ciaran to take. Taking it in his hand, the young man opened the paper before reaching inside. Gripping what was inside, he withdrew his hand, taking out a brown leather wallet, a fresh new debit card, and several light blue banknotes bound together by bright orange bill strip.

"It's your wallet. Sorry we didn't return it to you earlier, but circumstances didn't really allow it. I'm afraid we destroyed the money and cards that were already in there." The large man said as Ciaran opened the wallet to look inside.

"And I was so close to getting that twenty percent discount too..." The young man muttered, a slight laugh in his voice, Darlton then replying with a chuckle of his own.

"Yeah, sorry about that. But to make it up to you, we've given you a new debit card, with a bank account set up personally for your own use, plus you've got about two-hundred pounds in ten pound notes in your hand."

"You're shitting me?" Ciaran said in disbelief, looking at the seated man in shock. "Two-hundred quid?"

"For a man of your rank, it's only fair," Darlton said, leaning back in his large chair, "Plus, myself and Cornelia have also... shall we say, pulled a few strings to get you in to the system. You're on five years backdated pay as a lieutenant."

Ciaran's jaw practically dropped. "S-so, how much money is that?" He stammered out.

"It's a comfortable amount, that's all I'll say." Darlton replied with a shrug, before standing up from his chair. "Plus, it means you'll able to buy a good amount of clothes and what not over the week."

Regaining his composure, the young man shot the scarred general a smile.

"Thank you, sir."

Turning to leave the room, Ciaran stopped before turning around.

"General. Are there any regulations on wearing uniforms outside of barracks when not on duty?"

"Why do you ask that, Ciaran?" Darlton asked in confusion.

"Well, it's just with the fact that there are still terrorists active here, and we don't know whether the Black Knights will try anything. I'm thinking that a member of the Royal Guard walking around in his uniform might be a bit too conspicuous, if you get my drift."

The large man put his hand under his chin in thought for a few seconds before finally speaking.

"The dress-shirts are still white, correct?"

"Pretty much, sir."

Standing up from the desk, Darlton moved around to a large cupboard at the side of the room. Opening the doors and reaching inside, he knelt down to withdrew a sizeable steel trunk which he proceeded to open. Looking over the larger man's shoulders, Ciaran's eyes opened wide.

"Why do you have my clothes?" The young man asked in shock.

"Well, I did say they were in a secure locker. And I don't think there's a more secure locker than the one I have in my office." Darlton replied with a chuckle as he took out a pair of brown leather boots and a pair of dark blue jeans, holding them up for the young man to take. "I think you should be able to blend in well enough with these."

"Thank you, sir." Ciaran said, taking the offered clothes as the general replaced the trunk and closed the doors.

"I hope you have a good holiday, Ciaran." Darlton said with a genuine smile, the action twisting the scar on his face, as he watched the young men leave the room.

"I'm sure I'll manage, sir."

Walking down the hallway from his room, Ciaran finished rolling up the sleeves on his shirt above his elbows. Dressed in his jeans, leather boots and white shirt, he drew stares from a good number of the staff in the palace, although he paid them little mind as he made his way towards the exit.

A low wolf-whistle drew his attention as he stopped walking.

"Lady Nonette." He said, a thin smile on his face, as he knew who it was behind him.

"Looking sharp!" The Knight of Nine said as the young man turned to face her the woman flashing a toothy grin at the young man as she put a hand on her hip. The young man smiled before her simply shrugged.

"I do the best with what I can, my lady."

Nonette's smile faded from her face as she walked towards the man before her.

"I heard you talked to Dorothea last night, after the operation."

"Indeed I did, my lady." Ciaran replied, wondering where the conversation was heading. "Who told you, if I may ask?"

"Dorothea." The champagne-haired woman replied flatly. Ciaran let his eyes roam around the corridor, not meeting the woman's gaze.

"I'd rather not talk about what happened last night, my lady." He said somewhat testily, turning to walk away. He got no more than a few steps away from the noblewoman before he felt a hand grip his shoulder. Turning his head, he was surprised by the steely gaze Nonette gave him.

"My lady...?" He began before Nonette shot her hand up, her index finger raised.

"First off, start calling me Nonette. I bloody hate being called 'my lady'. Secondly, I want to ask you something: what did Dorothea say to you last night?"

"She said that... that I shouldn't feel bad about what happened last night and that I did my duty. Nothing more." The young man said with slight shrug.

Nonette removed her hand as she looked him straight in the eye.

"Nothing else?"

"Indeed." He didn't want to say anything about the kiss Dorothea had put on his cheek. It was short but sweet, nothing more than a peck. But the fact she did it...

"All right then." Nonette said, looking at the young man. Moving her hand from his shoulder, she swept her arm around Ciaran's shoulders, pulling him in to an lopsided hug, a large smile plastered on her face.

"Sorry if I worried you, Ciaran," She said, sincerity plain in her voice. "I like you, is all, and I didn't want to find out that Dorothea freaked you out."

The young man's face took on a look of mild shock before he began chuckling in disbelief. "No, it's all right. Dorothea really said some things I needed to hear, that's all."

"Good to hear!" Nonette said happily as she began walking the young man towards the exit of the palace. As they walked, the duo chatted amicably, Nonette asking her companion about his plans, or rather his lack of plans. Ciaran's admission that he had no plans for the week drew a laugh from the Knight of Nine, the sharp, barking noise filling the space.

"So, what were you going to do? Just wing it?" Nonette asked, trying her best to keep her laugh out of her voice.

"Basically." The young man replied with a shrug, causing the woman beside him to roll her eyes playfully and pull him in to a headlock.

"You are hopeless! How did you ever become an officer?" She said with a kind hearted smile. Although from Ciaran's angle, he couldn't really see much of her face as he was almost fully pressed in to the side of her breasts.

He was aware, however, of her reaching in to one of her jacket pockets. He heard her typing a small sequence on, what he guessed, was her phone before she started speaking.

"Nellie!" She called out, her voice as chipper as always. "Hey, just to let you know: I'm taking the day off."

The hallway fell silent as Nonette listened to Cornelia's response.

"Well, after talking with our young friend, he revealed that he has absolutely no clue where he is going to go today. And, since technically I'm on holiday too, I thought... why not?"

Silence again filled the world.

"All right then! Yes, no worries. I won't get him in to too much trouble. Oh, come on! That was a joke! Okay, bye, Nellie. Love ya!" Nonette made a kissing sound before she pocketed her phone. "Well, looks like you and me are spending the day together! What's with the look?"

The look the Knight of Nine was referring to was the look of absolute concentration Ciaran had on his face as he stared at one of the buttons on the woman's jacket.

"Just wandering what I did in a past life to always keep winding up so close to your chest." The young man said flatly.

"Is that really a bad thing?" Nonette asked him in a mildly offended tone.

Ciaran was quiet for a few seconds, obviously wandering what to say. "I really do not think that I can answer that one way or another, my lady."

Nonette was silent for a second before she burst in to a bout of laughter again, pulling the young man closer to the side of her bust.

"I like you, Ciaran. Have I said that yet?" The woman didn't wait for a reply before she pulled Ciaran up, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm going to get changed. Wait for me, I'll be back in about five minutes or so."

Ciaran couldn't help but grin and shake his head slightly as he watched Nonette walk off, the older woman sashaying as she walked away.

* * *

Exiting the black taxi, Ciaran couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious of who exactly his companion was. Scratching the stubble on his chin in a nervous habit, he looked away as he heard Nonette thank the driver of the taxi after she closed the door and paid him.

"Ready to go?" His companion asked him, the sound of the receding taxi fading to join the other sounds of the city in life in the late morning. Turning, the young man was certain he could feel his cheeks flush with colour slightly at the sight before him. Nonette was wearing a pair of low cut white trousers, coupled with a light blue, low cut top that showed off her stomach and a fair amount of her cleavage. The ensemble was completed by a pair of black flats, although Ciaran had to honestly admit that there was little chance anyone was going to look at her feet.

He had to admit it; she was drop-dead gorgeous. Sexy even.

"Yeah, I'm ready." Ciaran replied, keeping his voice level as he turned away from her and started walking. After taking no less than a dozen steps, his back straightened as he felt Nonette slid her arm around his, linking their hands together.

"You're nervous." The champagne-haired woman said, smiling sweetly.

"To tell you the truth, I've never walked arm in arm with a beautiful woman before." Ciaran admitted as he took in his surroundings. They had stopped by a large park near the middle of the Tokyo Settlement, and were now walking towards what Ciaran assumed to be the main shopping mall.

Nonette chuckled at Ciaran's admission as they walked past several people in the park. "Well, thank you for the compliment. And if you're worried about messing up: relax. You're doing well."

The disarming smile she flashed him did have the effect of making Ciaran soften, his stance becoming more loose as the duo continued their walk to the shopping centre. Walking through the park was a very pleasant experience for the young man. It was hot, as befitting a day in the middle of July, but fortunately it was a dry heat. Coupled with a soft seaborne breeze and the abundant shade, the weather was far from uncomfortable.

Making their way around the park, Nonette leading him with gentle nudges and tugs to direct him in the right direction, Ciaran couldn't help but let his mind wander. The park was so pristine, so much unlike the inner-city parks that he had visited in Britain. Always so much rubbish just left on the ground. But the constants were still there: old couples walking together, families sitting on the grass, the occasional jogger speeding past. The young man and his companion even said hello to the odd dog or two as they walked along the main path.

"Hey?" Ciaran felt his body rock slightly, Nonette nudging him bodily with her shoulder. Looking around, the young man was startled by the concerned look on her face. "You zoned out a bit. Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, no, sorry." Ciaran replied, turning to look at the path ahead. "Just... just noticing the differences between the parks here and the parks back home."

"Nellie said you were from Britain. I imagine this must be a bit of a culture shock for you."

The young man shrugged. "Not as much as you'd think. It's all just cleaner here, is all."

Nonette simply 'hmm'-ed in response as the duo continued their journey.

The pair continued their walk for a short time before they entered the Tokyo Settlement's premier shopping centre, the Omotesando Mall. Immediately, Ciaran was reminded of the shopping centre in his home-town: a large building, with a large sloped ceiling made of glass panels in geometric patterns to let the natural light through. It had to be at least two or three stories tall, with the ground floor and first floor being given over for shops. In the central avenue, trees were planted in large terraced gardens, alternating about ten or fifteen feet apart, with arches filled with flowers spanned the width of the avenue.

"So?" Nonette said, letting go of Ciaran's hand and walking in front of him, giving him a view of her, and he was very ashamed to admit it, very shapely rear. "What's the plan? Which shops are we hitting first?"

The young man shrugged, as he tried to look nonchalantly away from the woman standing before him. "Well, clothes would probably be a good place to start-"

"All right then!" Nonette called out, interrupting him mid-sentence as she spun around and gripped his hand tightly. "Let's get started!"

* * *

Channing Blackwell, corporal in the Britannian Military Provost Guard Staff, patrolled the hallway of the Tokyo Prison, his footfalls echoing down the corridor of the maximum security wing. Apart from him, he knew there were only four other people in this particular wing, A-wing: His fellow guard, Patrick, the two gate wardens on either end of the corridor and their prisoner. He didn't know the actual identity of the prisoner. Only that they were a high-value individual and that was enough for his commander.

The orders had come down from high up, all the way from the desks of General Darlton and Princess Cornelia themselves, so the fact that his colonel had chosen him and Patrick as the chosen guards for this task filled him with more pride than he had when he had joined the army.

Walking down the corridor, Channing passed the numerous empty cells. The fact that there was only one prisoner in this wing was nagging on him. Although they had to be important if the two highest ranking generals of the army had signed off on the orders for their detainment.

The burst of static from the radio on his belt coming to life startled him.

"Blackwell, come in. Blackwell, do you hear me?" It was Patrick on the radio.

"Rogers, I hear you. What's up? Over."

"Heads up. I just got word we've got an important visitor coming to see the prisoner." Patrick's voice was a mix of expectational awe and fear, so whoever it was, they must be one of the high-ups.

Channing was about to answer when he heard a loud electric buzzing sound come from the end of the hallway behind his back, signalling that the security door was opening. Turning around, his eyes widened in surprise, nearly dropping his radio as he saw the solitary figure walking down the corridor towards him.

"General Darlton, sir!" He called out, snapping his hand up in salute as the large man drew closer. Channing had heard about the General's large stature, but now meeting the man in the flesh, he couldn't help but recoil slightly at the man's size, even flinching slightly as the General drew his hand up in a salute of his own.

"Which cell is the prisoner being held in, corporal?" General Darlton asked, his deep voice seeming to fill the space.

"Right this way, sir. Cell A-7." Channing replied, keeping his voice professional as he gestured down the hallway. The large general moved past him, the man's long legs easily carrying him the distance to the indicated cell. When he had reached the cell, the general stopped as he raised one of his large hands to rest against the protective glass.

Channing followed the general but stopped when the higher ranked officer opened his mouth.

"You're relieved for now, corporal. Wait outside the security doors." The man's tone didn't give any room for Channing to argue, so he simply saluted before turning to leave the corridor.

* * *

His large hand resting on the reinforced glass, Darlton's gaze was fixed firmly on the figure of the young girl sitting on the edge of the bed inside the cell. Even the sound of the provost walking down and then exiting the corridor didn't draw his attention away from the person before him.

The girl inside was dressed in an off-white straitjacket, her arms tied behind her back, leaving her bright red hair the only source of colour in the colourless room. She seemed to be staring off in to space, her eyes unfocused, looking at the bottom corner of the cell directly in front of her.

"Kallen? Kallen, can you hear me?" Darlton asked, trying to get the girls attention.

Turning her head, Kallen looked blankly at the general. The general couldn't help but frown at the look in her eyes: bloodshot and red, her blank stare was downright depressing. Looking her face over, Darlton couldn't see any signs of any harsh treatment, which was reassuring.

"Kallen," The large man put a placating tone to his voice as he addressed the girl. "I'm going to ask you some questions, and I want you to answer them as best you can, okay?"

The girl nodded in a reply, her blank look never leaving the older man.

"I'm going to keep them simple, so you can reply with a nod if you have to. First off: your name is Kallen Stadtfeld, correct?"

A nod came in reply.

"And your father is the Earl Joseph Stadtfeld?"

Another nod.

"Your mother is the Lady Josephine Stadtfeld, correct?"

"Stepmother." A weak voice rasped out, catching Darlton by surprise before he realised it was Kallen's voice.

"Stepmother, right." Darlton said, keeping the surprise from his his voice. "So who is your mother?"

The prisoner was silent, her face turning to look away from the general.

"Kallen. Who is your mother?"

No answer.

"Is she that woman that you protected in Kitakyushu?"

The girl was silent before she spoke softly. "Yes."

Darlton let out a small sigh as his suspicion was confirmed: she was a half-breed. Half Britannian, half Number. It wasn't that uncommon a thing to happen. Usually the result of a Britannian noble who couldn't keep it in his pants around one of their local maids. But the General knew that even if the noble did take the child in as their own, they'd still face persecution in some form or another.

Looking at her, Darlton knew that Kallen was one of the lucky ones. Her soft features were close enough to a Britannian noblewoman than an Eleven, but if one discounted her red hair, it wouldn't be too hard for her to pass as a native.

And Darlton felt that he was getting closer to knowing the answer to his next question.

"Why were you in the Kitakyushu docks last night, Kallen?"

The teenager didn't reply, letting her gaze drop.

"Kallen." Darlton said, kneeling down to get a better view of her face. "Answer me. What were you doing in the Kitakyushu docks last night."

No answer was coming, so Darlton decided to try a different tact.

"Listen to me, Kallen," the man said, his voice becoming softer, "If you don't answer me, then I've been ordered to hand you over to some people. Now these men... they're experts at getting information from people. But they're not kind, in any sense of the word. They will hurt you, and they'll enjoy doing it. Now I don't want to see that happen. So answer my question: why were you in the Kitakyushu docks last night?"

Kallen's head hung low before her voice croaked out.

"Zero... Zero told us about the Refrain. We went in there to stop them."

Standing up, Darlton removed his hand.

"Thank you, Kallen." His voice was sincere as he turned to leave, but he wasn't prepared to hear the voice that called out to him.

"What... what's happened to my mother?" Looking down, Darlton was surprised to see that her blank look was overtaken by a pleading look.

Darlton was unsure of what to say. He hadn't been given any orders one way or another to divulge what had happened to the girl's mother. But seeing the look on Kallen's face, he couldn't help himself.

"Your mother is alive. She's being held in a prison hospital. Shell be held for twenty years, but she'll get the help she needs to kick her addiction to Refrain."

Kallen's lips morphed from a forlorn face to a broad smile, her eyes starting to shine as tears welled up in her eyes, as Darlton left the young girl in her cell. Behind him, he could hear the girl's soft but happy sobbing fill the hallway.

* * *

Sitting on one of the many benches in the centre of the Mall, Ciaran did his best to stretch out his sore feet, constrained as they were in his leather boots. With the time nearing midday, the temperature had also spiked, climbing quickly. Even though the mall had some of the best air-conditioning Ciaran had ever experienced, he could feel small amounts of sweat trickle down the back of his legs. Surrounding him on the bench was almost a dozen various bags, filled with various items of clothing and other things he needed.

"Yoo-hoo! Ciaran!" Nonette chirped out, as she approached the young man, a small red bag held in her hand. "Sorry for making you wait."

"No, it's no problem at all, Nonette." Ciaran said tiredly. He had to admit that the last few hours had certainly been fun, if a bit taxing. Nonette seemed to have a near inexhaustible supply of energy, which was a good thing since she was dragging the confused youth around the various clothes shops in the mall. She also had a pretty amazing ability to immediately recognize which clothes were best suited for Ciaran and which ones weren't. Although that abundance of energy did come with a price. The young man had sworn that he would vehemently deny any line of questioning about Nonette walking in on him while he was getting changed.

"What's in the bag?" He asked, leaning back on the bench, although the cat-like smile on the woman's face sent a cool shiver up his spine.

"I can't tell you that, Ciaran." She replied, playfully holding the bag behind her back. "Anyway, you ready for lunch?"

"Yeah, I could eat." The young man said, pushing himself off the bench. "Any ideas where we can go?"

Nonette pulled a quizzical face as she looked around her. "I don't really know. Depends on what you're in the mood for."

Ciaran was about to open his mouth, when a shocked gasp sounded from his right side, causing him to turn and face the wide eyes and mouth of a familiar looking young boy with blue hair, his arms weighed down by several large shopping bags, while behind him were three girls of similar ages and varying looks, who Ciaran had a feeling he had seen in passing.

"Lieutenant Forsyth?" The blue-haired boy asked while Ciaran racked his brain for the name, although thankfully the link clicked as he remembered who he was talking to.

"Rivalz, hey!" Ciaran called out, walking over the group as the young boy advanced towards him, the duo quickly grasping hands in a hearty handshake. "I'm glad to see you again, mate. And please call me Ciaran. I'm off duty."

"Oh, right. Sorry, Ciaran," Rivalz said, chuckling as he let go off his hand. "But, yeah. I'm just out shopping with my friends." He gestured to the trio of girls behind him as Ciaran looked past to get a better look at them. As he had seen, two of the girls were the same height as him, while the third was a full head shorter than either of the two girls she was sandwiched between.

"Rivalz, aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?" The first girl, a tall, thin girl with long, straight ginger hair, soft green eyes and a pleasant expression, wearing a long tank skirt with a matching white, short-sleeved jacket and white high-heeled shoes said, causing Rivalz to flinch slightly, before she moved past the teenager, her hand held in front of her. "Hi, I'm Shirley Fenette."

"A pleasure to meet you, miss Shirley." Ciaran said with a smile, as Shirley reached behind her and pulled her smaller companion forward, softly but firmly.

"Umm... hi," The shorter girl said shyly. Her curly hair, a dark shade of green, was done with two small pigtails that hung above her shoulders, framing her small round face. A pair of wire frame glasses covered her purple coloured eyes. Her outfit consisted of a khaki jacket over a short white skirt with a pair of red shoes. "I-I'm Nina. Nina Einstein."

Ciaran could tell that she was uncomfortable in her current situation, so he didn't press for a handshake, acknowledging her with a nod of his head. "Hello to you, miss Nina."

That left the final girl. She was about the same height as Shirley and Ciaran, with long blonde hair coming down to her shoulders, a pair of youthful blue eyes which seemed fully at odds with her very curvy body. She had to be older than the other two girls. Her outfit, a simple light green top, with a matching light blue skirt and blouse definitely gave her an air of adulthood.

Which was immediately shattered as her face turned from a look of surprise to wide eyed joy.

"Nonette!" The blonde squealed out, before rushing headlong at the champagne-haired Knight of Nine, who's face lit up in joy too.

"Milly!" The older woman replied, swinging her arms wide in turn as Milly collided with her before hugging her close and swinging her around and around, the teenage girls legs coming off the ground as the duo laughed happily.

"I'm so glad to see you, Nonette. When did you get here?" The blonde asked as she was put down on the floor, her hands grasping Nonette's hands tightly. The Knight soon began regaling her with the details of her holiday and what had occurred during her stay. Not that Ciaran paid any attention to what was said.

One thought was going through her mind: 'Oh, dear God. There's two of them."

"... so we were just deciding on where to go for lunch. Isn't that right, Ciaran?" Nonette's voice drew him back to the world, the young man nodding in response, although he didn't wholly hear what was being said.

"Oh, what a coincidence!" Milly said happily. "We were just about to get something to eat too. Care to join us?"

The young man didn't get a change to open his mouth before Nonette burst out happily. "Of course we would!"

Taking off, the bubbly duo paved the way for the group, Shirley and Nina walking behind the pair while Ciaran and Rivalz trailed behind, looking like human pack-mules.

"So how do you two know each other?" Ciaran called out from the back, as he shifted the bags in his hand the best he could to avoid the pain of the handles cutting in to his palms.

"Oh, me and Milly go quite a ways back," Nonette called back, looking over her shoulder. "Whenever I used to visit Lady Marianne at the Aries Villa, I would always find this one fawning over her eldest."

The young man couldn't help but chuckle at the idea, although he doubted that Milly was alone in her fawning, chuckling softly at the mental image.

Soon, they came to a small Italian restaurant, Nonette using her rank to net the group a small private room, letting the two males deposit their bags on the floor without having to worry about anyone tripping over. A waiter came shortly after they sit down for their drink orders before leaving the group to choose their meal from the menus.

Perusing over his menu (although he had already chosen the lasagna), Ciaran happened to glance over the top of the board before him, he was surprised to see Milly fix him with a sharp glare.

"You've forgotten about us, haven't you?" The blonde asked.

"Eh?" Was Ciaran's only response, as all eyes in the room turned to look at him.

"Prez, what are you talking about?" Shirley asked, just as confused as Ciaran was. But Milly didn't respond as she continued talking.

"Do you really not remember? Lake Kawaguchi?"

"To be honest, Milly, that whole night was a bit of a blur," Ciaran said, putting his menu down on the table, "So I don't really remember much of it."

"Oh really?" Milly replied, her voice taking on a hint of something theatrical, as she clutched her hands over her chest. "So you don't remember how you pushed the raft filled with three young, traumatised girls as you waded through the lake while crying 'Euphemia!' ?"

The young man was confused for a moment before the penny dropped. "Oh. Oh! That was...?"

Milly smiled quite triumphantly for some reason only known to her while her two female companions nodded demurely.

"I was confused why you didn't help us, until you called out the Princess' name," Shirley said sweetly. "You and her must be quite close, even if she is royalty."

"They're like the best of friends, if I've ever seen any." Nonette cut in, leaning forward on the table, a sincere smile on her face, which Ciaran returned as the waiter came for their meal orders.

* * *

Lunch was a simply but noisy affair,with Nonette and Milly chatting near constantly to each other, while Ciaran was engaged with Rivalz, Shirley and Nina. Mainly it was the two girls asking about the princesses, with Nina taking a lot of interest in what Euphemia was like. The end of the meal was nothing short of frantic, as Milly and Nonette began arguing about who was going to pay for the meal; Rivalz or Ciaran, although a short glare from Shirley had them splitting the bill six ways.

Paying the bill, and after collecting their bags, the group made their way out of the restaurant in to the mall.

"Well, I'm afraid we have to be off." The young man said, causing a shocked gasp from both Milly and Nonette.

"What?" Nonette said, rounding on Ciaran.

"He's right though. We need to go too, prez." Shirley said, causing Milly to round on her, although the blonde let out an exasperated sigh.

"Fine. Your dad's picking us up anyway, and if we stay out any longer, we'll have the paparazzi on us again." The blonde said sighing.

"If you want," Ciaran spoke up, "Me and Nonette can walk you to the exit. Just in case anyone tries to pester you."

"Oh, thank you!" Milly chirped out, her companions sharing her sentiment, before they began their journey to the exit. Luckily, the two soldiers didn't have to live up to their claim as no paparazzi came forward, so the group walked unmolested to the exit.

Passing through the entrance way, Ciaran was greeted with the sight of a large black car parked near the pavement. Standing beside the front, passenger side door was man, dressed in a tan jacket and blue jeans, with brown hair and green eyes.

"Daddy!" Shirley said, rushing towards the man who quickly embraced her, laughing as he did so.

"You're early, Shirley. I thought I'd have to wait a bit later for you and your friends." The man said, before looking up at the eldest pair of the group. "Are these two with you?"

"Yes they are, dad. They're... umm..." Shirley began, obviously unsure about what to tell her father.

"I'm Captain Ciaran Forsyth of Princess Cornelia's Royal Guard," Ciaran suddenly spoke up, gesturing to himself and his companion. "And this is the Knight of Nine, Lady Nonette Enneagram."

This surprised the older man who didn't know how to react to the information, so he just bowed slightly. "Well, uh, sir, my lady. I'm Joseph Fenette, and I have to say it is an honour for you..."

"Oh, save it." Nonette interrupted him with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Me and Ciaran are on holiday, so you don't have to stand on ceremony with us."

Joseph smiled slightly at the Knight's words, standing up straight. "Well. Thank you, my lady. Rivalz, you can put the bags in the boot."

The addressed teenager replied with a "You got it." before moving behind the car and opening the rearmost door, as Joseph opened the passenger doors, letting Shirley and Nina climb in. Milly stayed back though, turning to look at the two adults.

"It's been great seeing you again, Nonette," the blonde said before giving the champagne-haired woman another hug, which Nonette returned. Milly then turned to Ciaran after she released herself from the embrace. "And it's been a pleasure to meet you too, Ciaran. I hope to see you again soon."

"Same to you, Milly." The young man said with a smile as he relieved one of his hands of it's load of bags and offered it to Milly, who shook it gladly before leaving the duo to enter Joseph's car, Nonette and Ciaran waving them off.

* * *

The high-speed shutter on the camera clicked repeatedly as it took the necessary images of the man and the woman standing outside the Omotesando Mall. The observer and his team had been ordered to tail the pair as soon as they had left the Viceroy's Palace, their van trailing their mark's taxi as it followed the road to the central park. Deciding that following the duo through the park would draw too much attention, they decided to skirt around the park before stopping in the mall's car-park.

"The car's moving." The second occupant of the van said from the driver's seat, as the car in front to the mall rolled away, leaving the man and the woman standing out front with their bags, the duo beginning to talk between themselves.

"Looks like they're getting a taxi." The man with the camera said as he snapped off more pictures, focusing his lens on to the man.

"The male's the main target, right?" The second man said, leaning slightly to try and get a better view out of the window. The duo didn't have too great a risk of being discovered. Their matt grey van stood out a lot less than either a black or white van would, and the tinted windows didn't allow them to be seen.

"Yup." The first man said as he lowered his camera. "White male, early twenties, dark brown hair and stocky build. That's our man."

"So what do we do with the Knight of Nine?"

Raising his camera, the man snapped off some more pictures as he watched a taxi pull up next to the duo, with the two entering the vehicle.

"Until our order's change, we do nothing."

Seconds later, the black taxi cab sped off and the observer snapped the lens cover shut on his camera.

"All right. Let's go."

* * *

Raising the china cup to her mouth, Euphemia took a sip of the tea, murmuring happily as she swallowed the liquid.

"Lady Dorothea, this tea is lovely." She said to the woman sitting across from her. The Knight of Four nodded her head appreciatively at the compliment as she sat in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, a cup and saucer of her own held in her hands.

"Well, as Knights of the Round, we do get given some high quality gifts. Plus I'm always experimenting with different blends, just to see what fits."

"I understand fully. And this blend is exquisite." The pink princess said happily, holding up her cup slightly to further reinforce her point, bringing a smile to Dorothea's face.

She had to admit it to herself, but Euphemia was a little bit put off about the prospect of having Dorothea helping her. She had not spent much time around the Knight of Four, and the only she had met her was she wan she was several years younger, and those meetings were very short and terse, leaving the young princess with the impression of Dorothea being a bit too serious a woman.

But the last few hours had done much to assuage those thoughts. Yes, she was very thorough and professional in her work, going through all of the documents given to her methodically and carefully. But this did not stop her from talking pleasantly with the Princess at certain times. There were even times when Euphemia though the older woman was studying a document in silence, only to hear the faint sound of her humming a soft tune to herself. And the fact that Dorothea had made a pot of superb tea without being prompted, greatly increased Euphemia's view of the woman.

A short buzzing sound from her desk drew the princess' attention as her phone told her she had an incoming message. The phone had been her own idea, a way for her to stay in touch with Ciaran during his time in Area 11. Picking the device up, she flipped open the screen and read the message sent to her.

Have entered Palace w/Nonette

ETA to office 2 mins

"Uh-oh." She said out-loud as she quickly pocketed the device and put her cup and saucer to the side.

"What's wrong, Princess?" Dorothea asked, uncrossing her legs and getting ready to stand.

Euphemia was about to tell her the news before the doors to her office burst open with a resounding bang, followed by the voice of Nonette loudly proclaiming, "Honey, I'm home!"

Both Britannians were stunned in to silence as the Knight of Nine walked towards them at a playful saunter, a smirk on her face. Looking past her, Euphemia saw Ciaran coming up behind, carrying nearly a dozen bags in both hands.

"Hello, Princess." He said tiredly, before letting the bags slip from his grasp to fall to the floor, flexing out his hands as he walked forward.

"Hello, Ciaran. Did you... did you have a good day out?" Euphemia asked hesitantly.

"No, it was a good day out. I'm just tired." The man said, turning his head slightly to the side before he spied the couch set against the side of the office. "I'm just... just going to take the weight of my feet for a little bit." And with that, Ciaran let himself fall on to the couch, stretching out his legs with a sigh.

"How much did you buy, Nonette?" Dorothea asked, standing up from her chair and walking towards the pile of bags on the floor.

"Believe it or not, Dorothea, but I didn't buy much. The majority of that is Ciaran's." The Knight of Nine said as she walked towards the desk. "Oh, by the way. I met Milly at the mall."

Euphemia's head snapped up so quickly, she was quite certain she heard something snap. "Milly? Milly Ashford? Here? In Area 11?"

"Mmhmm." Nonette nodded in response. "She's here, she's healthy and still the same as ever."

Euphemia smiled broadly at the memory of the blonde haired girl who she'd see in Aries Villa. Milly got on brilliantly with everyone, and she always had such fun new games to teach her, Nunnally and Lelouch. Although Lelouch was always a bit hesitant to play them...

A quite but hard thud drew everyone's attention as, turning, they saw Ciaran's head disappear below the arm of the couch.

"You okay, Ciaran?" Nonette asked, as Euphemia and Dorothea leaned forward to get a better view. The young princess was about to open her mouth to speak before a soft snoozing sound, bringing a smile to her face.

"Do you want to see what I bought, Dorothea?" The Knight of Nine said, leaning closer to her fellow Knight, a worryingly broad grin on her face, making Euphemia recoil in fear. Not waiting for an answer, Nonette spun back to her bags, rummaging through the myriad of bags before, with a short exclamation of glee, she found the bag she was looking for. In anticipation of what was to come, Dorothea had slowly began to move out of her chair.

"Here it is!" The champagne-haired woman standing up. Turning around, Euphemia's and Dorothea's eyes nearly bugged out of their skulls. In her hands, Nonette was holding, what was basically, a combination of string and three small triangular patches of bright red cloth.

"What is that?" Dorothea practically screeched out, forgetting the young man sleeping on the couch, although he didn't seem to have flinched at the noise.

"It's a bikini." Nonette said, matter-of-factly, her face unreadable of any emotion.

"Why did you think that's an appropriate thing to wear?" The Knight of Four continued, pointing at the article of clothing like it was something of pure evil.

"Oh, I was fully aware of that when I bought it," Nonette said, a mischievous grin on her face as she stalked forward. "After all, I bought it for you."

At that admission, Euphemia saw the colour seem to drain from Dorothea's face as the Knight of Four began to back away from her friend.

"K-keep that thing away from me!" Dorothea stammered out, trying to sound as commanding as possible in her current state, before she practically jumped to the side as Nonette lunged at her with the offending article of clothing, the Knight of Nine regaining her footing as Dorothea moved to put as much distance between the two as possible.

Euphemia tried to suppress the small giggle that came out as she watched Nonette practically chase Dorothea out of the office, the champagne-haired woman brandishing pieces of material like a weapon. The noise generated by the duo as they exited the door did little to wake up Ciaran's lightly snoozing form, his form tucked up on the couch.

So, as the door closed shut, it was to the young princess' surprise that the man's head shot up, eyes turned to focus on the door. He raised himself up slightly, his gaze still on the door before he turned to look at Euphemia.

"I need to talk to you." His tone was the same as someone who was slightly terrified.

"Umm... sure, okay. What's wrong?" Euphemia asked the man as he pushed himself off the couch and hurried over to her desk, sitting across from her. When he was seated, Ciaran cast one more look over his shoulder before turning to look at the princess before him.

"You spent the whole day with Dorothea, right?" He asked, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone as he leant forward.

"Of course, I did." Euphemia replied, unsure of where the conversation was going.

"Did she mention anything about what happened last night? After the operation, I mean."

"No. Why? Did something happen?" The pink princess leant forward, her interest heavily piqued by the idea. For his part, Ciaran suddenly looked very guilty, like what he was to say next shouldn't be said. "Ciaran?"

He was silent for a few moments before he spoke, with a fair bit of reluctance. "Dorothea... kind of... kissed me."

Euphemia's eyes widened as her jaw dropped at his revelation. "What? When? How? Why?" She asked, leaning over her desk expectantly.

"It wasn't anything major," Ciaran said, sinking back in to his chair. "It was... just a little peck on the cheek, is all."

"But she kissed you!" Euphemia called out, standing up from her chair before clamping her hands over her mouth as Ciaran's body seized up like a cat ready to pounce. Quickly, both of their eyes focused on the door to the office, expecting someone to walk in following her outburst. When no one entered, Euphemia sank back down in to her chair, demurely putting her hands back on to the desk, looking every bit like the prim and proper princess she was.

"Sorry about that." Euphemia squeaked out, her face becoming a tinge of red.

"No worries." Ciaran said, turning back around. "Yes, she did, technically, kiss me. I just want to know did she say anything about it when she was with you at all."

"No, she didn't mention a thing." To Euphemia, this was bit of a revelation.

"Do you... do you think she's in love with you?" She asked the question with some hesitance, unsure whether or not to voice her thoughts. It wasn't too surprising that Ciaran's face became almost entirely red and he began blustering and stammering.

"Wha-what? Dorothea, in-in love with me?" He soon began to chuckle lightly, causing Euphemia to get confused.

"Well, why wouldn't she?" The princess asked, and the smile fell away from the young man's face, replaced with a look of apprehensive confusion.

"It's all right." Euphemia said, reaching forward and putting a hand on Ciaran's shoulder, giving him a smile. "If she does, I'm sure she'll tell you in time."

The man didn't say anything in immediate reply, which worried the young princess until she saw a thin smile come to his lips. "I'll hold you to that, Euphemia."

Smiling again, Euphemia pushed herself out of her chair and walked around the desk to stand near Ciaran as he pushed himself to his feet. "Do you want some help with your bags, Ciaran?" She asked sweetly.

"If you would be kind enough, princess." The young man said with a bow, before moving to pick up some of his bags, the young princess moving to copy his movements.

* * *

With night having fallen, the once vibrant, criminal night-life of the Tokyo Settlement became scarce as the word spread about what had happened in Kitakyushu. About how the Witch of Britannia was bringing the battlefield with her to Area 11. The raid in Kitakyushu, although to the criminal underworld, it was more like when God struck down Sodom and Gomorrah. They were running scared, even after one night.

And Lelouch, stewing in his private office in the Black Knights' mobile base, was pissed off.

It was supposed to be him who put the fear of God in to criminal scum, not his sister! It was supposed to his name, or rather Zero's name, they should be saying in hushed tones as they huddled in fear at the mention of the name of the Black Knights.

"Annoyed?" The bored voice of C.C. said, interrupting Lelouch's thoughts. The exiled prince turned around, fixing the immortal witch with a withering stare.

"Shut up, witch." He growled out, his voice flowing out from gritted teeth in to the open space. The green haired woman gave no reply as she lifted another piece of pizza from the box next to her and bit in to it. "I'm perfectly fine."

"Then why are you moping?"

"I'm not moping! It's called brooding." Lelouch said as he spun around in his chair to face the wall in front of him, mentally chastising himself for falling in to the witch's ploy. He was certain he could feel her mirthful, catlike stare burrowing through the collar of his cloak.

"I don't think I've seen you this angry before. Even when that soldier turned out resistant to your Geass." C.C. asked, surprisingly concerned at his anger.

"I'm angry because I've lost one of the most important members of my organization, that's why!" Lelouch roared out, surprising himself with the force in his voice.

The immortal was about to open her mouth to speak when a knock sounded through the door.

"Zero? Are you busy?" Ohgi's timid voice came from the other side of the door. Reaching over, Lelouch picked up her helmet, sliding it over his head as he stood up from his hair.

"What is it, Ohgi?" The teenage prince said in impeccable Japanese as he pressed the button to slide open the door. The pompadour haired Japanese man stood at a respectful distance away from the door, letting Zero exit. From the common area of the vehicle, he could hear raised voices in anger.

"The others want to know what we're going to do. About Kallen." Ohgi said, quite forcefully, surprising the Britannian youth.

The boy was silent in thought as he heard C.C. step out from behind him in to the small hallway. It was true that Kallen's capture had caused a gigantic flaw in his plans. The members of the organization he had so far were determined and skilled, he had to give them that, but Kallen was the only one who could pilot a Knightmare Frame with the same sort of skill as the pilots of the Britannian military.

"I'll talk to them now." Zero said as he turned to exit the hallway, moving to walk down the spiral staircase. Sitting in the space below him, sat the other five members of the Black Knights, Zero's inner circle.

Although Lelouch had to admit that 'sitting' might not be the right word to use since currently, Tamaki and Sugiyama were on their feet and looking like they were ready to brawl.

"And I'm telling you that we have to do something!" Tamaki said, his voice grating on Lelouch's ears, and he was sure everyone else's.

"Are you crazy, Tamaki?" Sugiyama responded, his voice surprisingly level but not masking his irritation at talking to his comrade. "Even if we were to do something, how would we be able to break in to the Britannian prison? I want to rescue Kallen as much as you do, but at least think it through, man!"

The bandanna wearing red-head looked like he was about to bodily lunge at Sugiyama, so Lelouch decided it was the right time for him to intervene. "Tamaki, Sugiyama. Calm down." His enhanced voice, sounding deeper than it actually was, helped draw everyone's attention, all eyes fixing on him as he stood at the midway point of the staircase, C.C. and Ohgi standing at the top, leaning over the railing.

"So? What are we going to do, man?" Tamaki called out, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Lelouch was silent in thought as he climbed down the last few steps, coming to rest on the floor and standing before the assembled group. Even if capture of the group's only good pilot had stymied his plans greatly, it had not been the end. Lelouch knew that in a secure location, several Burai units, Japanese made clones of the Britannian Glasgow, sat ready and waiting for use and he also knew that the Black Knights had gotten an influx of new members after the incident at Lake Kawaguchi.

'But could it work...?' Lelouch thought to himself, his hand unconsciously coming up rest against the chin of his mask.

"Zero?" The other, and currently only, female Black Knight, Naomi Inoue, spoke up as everyone held their breath, awaiting their masked leader's reply.

"How many of you are willing to rescue Kozuki?" The masked terrorist replied, and nearly instantly, all those present, save for C.C., put up their right hand.

"And far are you willing to go to rescue her?"

"As far as it takes." The bespectacled Yoshitaka Minami replied, the heads of everyone present nodding.

'Boy, I did hit the jackpot with these guys.' Lelouch thought to himself before speaking out loud. "All right then. I have a plan."

* * *

 **AN: Oh, Jesus. I can only apologise for the wait between this chapter and the last chapter. As I have recently lost my job, I have been spending a fair amount of my time looking for a new job and obviously that involves a whole lot of different things. Updating CVs, writing cover letters, etc etc. There was also a problem earlier in the writing of this chapter where my laptop went all screwy and I lost the first draft of this chapter, meaning I had to start from scratch. Ugh... it's just been a mess. So thanks to AD Fields again for the help he's given me on this chapter.**

 **Anyway... yes, this is quite a long chapter. For some this might not be a bad thing, but for those who aren't too fond of it... you might not like future chapters since I think these chapters are going to end up quite long as this story progresses.**

 **The scene with Kallen... yes, it is quite an odd scene considering what Kallen is like in the story, but I think that if she had been captured in the time frame she had been then that might have changed her tone a bit. Nothing major, yes, but something noticeable. Although to be fair, I have no idea where this is going to lead concerning Kallen. I don't plan things out to well.**

 **As for the other bits... I'm not saying. I'll let you guys talk about those bits in the reviews. And I'm also open to PMs from you guys concerning the story.**

 **So again, read, enjoy and do please review. I like hearing the opinions of you guys on this story, I really do.**


	13. Chapter 13

Pushing the side of his head deeper in to his pillow to get comfortable, Ciaran was just barely aware that he was reaching that moment of waking where he was still in the soft embrace of sleep but also at the point where the world outside his bed was becoming more palpable.

He hadn't reached the full point of waking, but he was aware of someone rocking him gently backwards and forwards, while talking to him.

"...ake up, Ciaran. Wake up."

He tried to resist the urge to open his eyes, but the insistent shaking and calling of his name made him crack. Opening his eyes with great reluctance, Ciaran was greeted to the sight of the smiling face of Euphemia, the pink haired girl's eyes alight with joy.

"Good morning, Ciaran!" She chirped, oblivious to the closeness of her face to his. The young man was silent for a few seconds, his eyes looking with a detached interest at the young princess before pushing himself up and flipping himself on to his other side, facing away from Euphemia as he tried to fall asleep. Behind him, he could hear the young girl give a loud huff of indignation.

"Hey! Get up!" She cried, trying to turn Ciaran over. He couldn't help but crack a smile as he easily fought against her minimal strength before deciding to relent as he pushed himself away from Euphemia and sat himself up, the blanket sliding down to pool around his waist.

"Okay, okay! I'm up, I'm up!" He said, laughing slightly before yawning, feeling the bed jolt slightly as he felt Euphemia climb on to the bed near him. Reaching over, he picked up his bedside clock. "Euphemia, it's half past seven. What's the emergency?"

"Do you know what the date is?" Euphemia asked him, cocking her head slightly.

Ciaran reached up and gave his head a quick scratch as he racked his head, trying his best to get his brain going so soon after waking up. "Umm... July... Fifteenth?"

"Correct!" Euphemia called out. "And do you know what the means?"

"Someone's birthday?"

Euphemia shook her head. "Nope."

"Some weird holiday of yours?"

Another shake of the head.

"Okay, I give up." Ciaran said with an exaggerated shrug.

"It's been over a month that you've been with us, silly!"

The young man was stunned in to silence for a few brief seconds before a goofy smile came to his face. "Holy crap. A whole month..."

"Well, a month and a few extra days," Euphemia corrected, seeming to be quite embarrassed. "I would have done something sooner, but we were all very busy."

Ciaran nodded in understanding as he let himself fall backwards on to the mattress, his head colliding with the pillow as he let out a little chuckle. "A month already? It's flown by, hasn't it?" Looking over, he saw Euphemia give a soft smile.

"I know. The time has just gone by and, I'll be honest, it feels like you've always been here." She turned her head to look at Ciaran and they shared a large broad grin.

"Anyway!" Euphemia chirped, hopping off the bed and turning to face him. "Get dressed in your best clothes, not your dress uniform. We're having a special breakfast in your honour."

Ciaran nodded in understanding, preparing to slip out of his bed as Euphemia made to leave the room before a sudden thought came to his head.

"Euphemia!" He called out to stop the princess. "What about Nonette and Dorothea? They don't know that I'm not from... well, from here."

In response, Euphemia's face beamed out a large smile. "Don't you worry about that, Ciaran. Cornelia and I have that under control. Now get dressed." She gave a small wave before exiting the room, leaving Ciaran to get dressed.

* * *

Walking down the hallway to the dining room, Ciaran did his best to sort out his tie for what felt like the hundredth time, and failed miserably. When he went shopping with Nonette, he had almost begged her to let him buy at least one clip-on tie but the Knight of Nine had vehemently refused.

"It wouldn't do for a man of your rank to be seen with a clip-on tie." She had said in a stereotypically snooty accent, but the small glare she gave him definitely told him she was not joking.

Drawing closer to the dining room, he stopped dead as he looped the fabric around the base of the upturned collar of his shirt. The tie was a deep purple, which contrasted with the cream and light purple shirt. Over that, he wore a dark charcoal suit and trousers combination.

Ciaran let out a deep, throaty growl as the tie slipped from his fingers again.

"Having trouble?"

Turning around, Ciaran found himself looking at Darlton, a mirthful smile on the general's face. In reply, the young man let the tie drop over his chest as he raised his hands in exasperation. "I can't seem to get it right, sir."

The larger man simply chuckled and gave his head a short shake as he moved to stand closer to the young man, taking a hold of the tie in his hands as he bent down.

"Did your father never teach you how to do a tie?" Darlton asked as he easily fixed the thin piece of fabric.

"He did once. For my high school prom," Ciaran said, trying to remember. "So that was about five years ago, I think."

Darlton didn't say anything in response as he finished with the knot, cinching it just below Ciaran's neckline before releasing the tie and pulling himself to his full height. Ciaran pulled the knot up and set his collar down as Darlton spoke.

"You don't talk about them. I've known you for a month and I've never heard you mention your parents once."

Ciaran still had his hands on his collar as he thought in silence about what to say. "I just didn't think that it was relevant. My parents were really nothing special."

He turned around to walk to the dining room as he heard Darlton fall in to step beside him. The duo was silent as they continued their walk before the young man spoke up again.

"Any clues about what's in store, sir?"

Darlton shrugged in reply, indicating he was a clueless as Ciaran. Turning a corner, the door with it's ever present butlers was in their sights. The young man continued walking forward before one of Darlton's hands stopped him, turning him around. Confused, Ciaran didn't protest as the general gave his suit a few tugs, setting it straight.

"You're not ashamed of them, are you?"

Ciaran was shocked by the question, his mouth hanging open slightly before he closed it, swallowing slightly. "No, not as such. I've just... I've just been wondering how they'd react to this whole mess. If they knew where I was, I mean."

The general didn't say anything before giving Ciaran a slight tap on the chest with his knuckle, a slight grin on his face.

"You became a soldier, a lieutenant right off the bat. In the space of a month, you've become a captain, gained the friendship of two members of the Britannian nobility. Hell, you've even made friends with one of Britannia's top generals and Guilford."

The young man couldn't help but chuckle at the dig at the bespectacled knight.

"And before you came here, you were... what were you again? A dish washer?"

"Eh, essentially."

"Exactly! All that in a month. Now I think your parents would be impressed by that, wouldn't they?"

Ciaran was silent in thought for a short while before his look of surprise quickly morphed in a grin, chuckling as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Bloody hell, sir. I'm embarrassed now."

Darlton only chuckled in reply as he and the young man continued their walk to the dining room. At their approach, the two butlers opened the door in to the dining room. Entering the large room, Ciaran was greeted with the sight of the two Princesses, Guilford and the two Knights of the Round all standing on one side of the table, a filled champagne flute held in their hands, although he seriously doubted it was alcohol. On the table in front of them, the top was covered in a variety of different foods.

"Happy anniversary..." The cheer trailed off as Euphemia, Dorothea and Cornelia blushed slightly at their words. Guilford shook his head as he smiled while Nonette howled with laughter at their choice of words. Standing just past of the threshold of the door, Ciaran and Darlton were silent for a few moments before they both cracked a smile and chuckled.

"Now that is the best example I've seen of bad timing, ever." Darlton said as he walked towards the table.

"Princess Euphemia, you could have chosen a better thing to call out." Ciaran said in a deadpan voice as he walked towards the group. The princess in question walked towards him and gave him a slight hug.

"Well, it is an anniversary, isn't it? It is the day you joined us here after all."

Ciaran quickly shot her a quick look that implied she was playing with fire, but thankfully no-one noticed as Cornelia walked to stand near the pair.

"She is right, Ciaran. You've been with us for just over a month and I think I can honestly say that you have had an affect on all of us here," The Second Princess said sweetly as she placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Plus, I also think that it is time that we celebrated your achievements, even if is unofficially."

"Hey, any excuse for a party is a good excuse," Nonette cut in as she plopped herself down on her chair. "And it shows how much of an affect you've had on her if you can get Nellie to throw a party."

Turning his head, Ciaran gave Cornelia a look of pleasant surprise. "You had a hand in this?"

Leaning forward, the older Princess dropped her tone to conspiratorial as she drew near his ear. "Anything for my little brother." She said quietly, her face beaming for a short moment before taking on a softer smile as she drew herself back to her full height and turned to address the whole room. "Well then everyone, dig in."

Accompanied by Nonette's small cry of joy, the group sat down at the table. Taking his seat, Ciaran was able to take in all the food laid out before him. Pancakes stacked by the dozens, laden with syrup, fresh fruit cut in to bite sized pieces, bowls of various cereals and jugs of chilled milk, all sorts of various breakfast food. There was even cake! Ciaran was dumbstruck.

"Something wrong, Ciaran?" Darlton said as he put some waffles on to his plate.

"No, nothing. It's... it's just that no-one's ever done something like this for me before." He couldn't help sounding as morose as he did, but he was right. In his twenty-one years, no-one had ever treated him as lavishly as he was being treated now.

"Well, you deserve it, Ciaran," The general replied, a broad smile on his face. "Enjoy it, lad."

The young man simply smiled in reply as he pulled some waffles towards him and began eating. He hadn't gotten in more than a few bites from his food before a small, muffled exclamation of shock from Nonette drew his and everyone's attention.

"Oh!" The Knight of Nine cried, swallowing whatever was in her mouth before she spoke. "I almost forgot. Darlton, do you think we should give Ciaran his present now?"

The young man was halfway through chewing a mouthful of waffle, so he could only hum in surprise as Darlton gave the champagne-haired woman an exasperated look. "Well, there goes that surprise."

"A present?" Euphemia asked, a happy smile on her face.

Reaching down, Nonette put her hand under her chair, obviously to retrieve the present, while Darlton spoke up again. "Yes, your highness. It was partially my idea, since I felt that, as a captain, Ciaran needs something that befits his rank. And it turns out that Nonette had just the thing in mind."

"Indeed I did!" The woman in question called out as she pulled out a small, blue box tied with a red bow from under her chair, standing up from her seat before she moved around the table. When she reached Ciaran's seat, she held the box out in front of her triumphantly, a large grin on her face.

With a hesitancy born from, his admittedly short, experience, Ciaran took the box from her hands. Almost immediately, he noticed the weight, his hands dropping slightly with the heaviness. Setting the box down on the tabletop, Ciaran undid the bow and the paper quickly but carefully. Beneath was a simple wooden box made of a dark wood. Sliding off the lid, he revealed a dark, satin interior which had a dull, metallic grey pistol nestled within, a magazine resting beside it. It was the same length as the pistol he had originally been given, but this one was more rounded on the slide and receiver, and the handle was made from what appeared to be ivory.

"It's a Webley .455 pistol. Semi-automatic, single-action. It's a classic, but it works." Darlton explained as the young man took the pistol from it's housing and held it in his hand, turning it this way and that, looking the pistol over.

"It's definitely got some weight to it." Ciaran said as he held the pistol in one of his hands.

"Thank you, to the both of you. I mean it." The young man said, a smile smile on his face as he placed the pistol back in it's box. He was about to remove his hands before Nonette placed one of her hands on his.

"That's only half of your present though." The Knight of Nine said with a grin, unnerving everyone around the table, Ciaran especially. The young man's body was wound like a spring, ready to lurch away at any moment.

Nonette struck faster than anyone would have thought. Leaning down, the champagne-haired woman pressed her lips to Ciaran's cheek, giving him a lingering kiss. No-one made any noise as the woman stood back up, the young man's face turning a bright shade of red. Nonette didn't say anything as she moved back to her seat. She just had a broad grin on her face as she sat down in her chair and continued eating her breakfast.

Ciaran pulled himself back up to an upright seating position, a blank look on his face as everyone looked on in silence. After a few tense second, the young man took in a deep breath before speaking, his voice coming out more steadily than he thought it would be.

"T-thank you for the present, Nonette. Although, if I'll be honest, I'll probably get more use from Darlton's present than yours."

Nonette looked up at the young man across from her as she shot him an annoyed look. However, this had the effect of breaking the tension as one by one, the other people at the table began laughing, the sound filling the room before they returned to finish their meals.

Partway through eating his meal, Ciaran gave Darlton a slight nudge to get the older man's attention.

"General, is it possible for me to get some more training in the Gloucester? I know I'm on on holiday and all, but I don't think I got enough practice in it the last time." The last part of the request was punctuated by a sideways glance at the Knight of Nine.

Darlton didn't say anything in response before he merely shrugged followed by a smile and a nod. "I'd be happy to."

"Can I join?" Nonette asked, looking up hopefully from her plate.

"No!" Ciaran, Darlton and Cornelia said as one.

* * *

Even with all the food before them, the occupants of the room quickly ate their fill. Nonette fell in to what could only best be described as a food coma, the champagne-haired woman slumping back in her chair, a serene look on her face even as her eyes stared unfocussed at the ceiling, leaving Lord Guilford to carry the Knight out of the room and Cornelia to become red with second-hand embarrassment even as she shook with barely constrained laughter.

Excusing themselves, Ciaran and Darlton left the table to head for the garage, leaving the two Princesses and the Knight of Four together.

"It's quite sad." Euphemia said dishearteningly, looking at her flute of orange juice.

"What do you mean, Euphie?" Her older sister asked, quickly overcoming her mirth at hearing her sister's tone.

"To give him a weapon as a gift. It just cements the fact that he's a soldier."

"And it's a path he chose of his own freewill, Euphie." Cornelia rebutted, giving her young sister a soft smile. "I am sure he is perfectly aware of the meaning behind his gift. Plus, he seemed quite taken with it too. Wasn't he, Dorothea?"

At the mention of her name, the dark-skinned Knight's head snapped up from looking at her emptied glass, her face slightly flushed.

"Pardon, your highness?"

"Are you okay, my lady?" Euphemia asked, her eyes showing the same concern as Cornelia, who leant forward, as confused as her younger sister.

"Y-yes, your highness. I'm just feeling a little bit too full from breakfast. Please excuse me." Dorothea said, quickly pushing back her chair and exiting the room quickly, leaving the two princesses in stunned silence.

* * *

Laying on her back, eyes looking up at the underside of the top of her four-poster bed, Dorothea's stomach was roiling. And not because of the food she had for breakfast. She could not deny that she had overindulged herself with all of the sweet food that had been present.

But that wasn't the reason for her distress.

It because of Nonette kissing the young Captain.

Dorothea had never been the most forthright person when it came to expressing romantic feelings in public. There was just something about the whole practice that just didn't sit right with her personally. Granted, she had been with Nonette enough to not be thoroughly bothered by it. Hell, she'd even been on the receiving end a number of times. Although there was the time that Nonette met Gino and that was awkward for everyone.

'So why am I bothered by this?' The Knight of Four mentally asked herself as she forced herself to sit upright. The interactions between Ciaran and herself had been nothing but professional. Their introduction had been short, even if Andreas had managed to get them and Guilford to play a small card game as an ice-breaker. And all of their their interactions had been anything but intimate. Even when she had helped him after his 'training' with Nonette in the Knightmares, she had only helped him after he'd thrown up by giving him something to eat and drink. All were harmless.

And then there was the night of the raid. The young man had been shaken by his first taste of combat and she had given him a shoulder to cry on, metaphorically and literally. It was only an attempt to give Ciaran a form of reassurance and comfort that she had kissed him, even if it was on the cheek.

She had kissed him.

Dorothea's eyes widened at the memory of her actions. She had kissed him.

The only people she had kissed were her parents and family, Nonette (although that was usually against her will) and her past lovers. And Ciaran had certainly been neither of those.

But then why had she been so ready to kiss him?

But she had kissed him.

She racked her mind at the memory of that night: she had volunteered so readily to go look for him when Ciaran hadn't shown up at the muster point and she had gone all over the muster point searching for him. She remembered that had been genuinely worried for him at that time, and she felt so relieved at finding him.

So was she genuinely falling for him?

Her train of thought was interrupted as she heard a timid knock on her door.

"Come in!" She called out, regaining her composure as she stood up from the bed to look towards the opening door. Entering inside, the form of Princess Euphemia came inside of the room, her hands folded in front of her.

"Are you feeling all right, Lady Dorothea?" The young girl asked.

"Yes, I'm fine, your highness."

"Good. Good." Euphemia replied, nodding her head. "I'm looking forward to more of your lovely tea."

Dorothea let a smile come to her face at the princess' request. "I'm sure I'll be able to create something you'll enjoy, your highness."

Moving from her bed, the Knight of Four approached the young princess as Euphemia moved to stand outside the door. Entering the hallway, Dorothea closed the door softly behind her before the duo began to walk to the Euphemia's office.

The older woman was not surprised that the two walked in silence, but there was something about this silence that put her on edge. Glancing over, Dorothea could see that the princess wanted to say something, but she was hesitant to speak. Euphemia was fidgety, her thumbs playing around each other while her back was tense. She was also stealing the occasional and painfully obvious glances at the female knight's face.

"Is something wrong, your highness?"

Her question seemed to snap Euphemia in to the real world as the princess almost managed to jump out of her skin, her head snapping round to look at the woman beside her. The princess' mouth opened and closed intermittently, Euphemia attempting to stammer out a sentence.

"I... I... um..." Was all she managed to stammer out before she swallowed and turned to face Dorothea properly. "I saw how you reacted to Nonette kissing Ciaran."

This time, it was Dorothea's turn to have her eyes widen in shock and begin to bluster, as she felt her face warm up.

She knew that she couldn't deny the fact: she had reacted to Nonette kissing Ciaran, but she had hoped it had gone unnoticed. She remembered gripping her cutlery tightly, her eyes widening and her back stiffening. Granted, it had only happened for a few seconds, but it seemed that was time enough for the young princess to catch it.

"I'm not sure what you mean, your highness." Dorothea said in reply, her face a textbook example of neutrality.

"Oh, come now," Euphemia said, leaning forward with a hurt look on her face, which shifted to a friendly smile. "You know you can tell me anything."

A wave of heat came upon Dorothea's face as she looked in to the young princess' large, light purple eyes. By God, she couldn't resist that look. Good thing her oath as a Knight of the Round didn't cover giving in to cute princesses.

Glancing around, Dorothea spied a door off to the side. Motioning for Euphemia to stay where she was, she approached the door and opened it. Glancing inside, she saw that is was a small meeting room, a large table in the middle with a couch set below the large bay window. But most importantly the room was empty.

"Could we discuss that matter in here, your highness?" The Knight of Four called out as she held the door open for the princess, who quickly walked through in to the room. When she saw Euphemia sit down on the couch, Dorothea entered the room, shutting the door behind her before leaning against the entrance.

"I can trust you to keep a secret, right your highness?" The older woman said hopefully.

"Of course, Lady Dorothea." Euphemia replied with a quick nod of her head and a smile on her face. "So what's wrong?"

Pushing herself off the door, Dorothea walked forward, her hands clasped in front of her stomach. "First of all, did Captain Forsyth tell you anything about what happened on the night of the raid? Concerning me and him, I mean."

The princess put a finger to her chin as she seemed to think over the answer, before speaking. "Just that you gave him some words of encouragement."

Taking a deep breath, Dorothea prepared to speak. "While that is true, it's not the whole story. When I found him, he was quite despondent, enough to come to tears. In an attempt to cheer him up, I... I kissed him."

A sharp gasp came from the pink princess in reply as, looking up, Dorothea saw Euphemia's hands come up to her mouth, a look of surprise on her face.

"You kissed him?" The princess asked, her hands falling away from her face, to which Dorothea nodded simply in reply, before realising what she had admitted.

"It wasn't anything serious!" She said hastily. "It was... just a little peck on the cheek. I was trying to cheer him up."

"With a kiss?"

"I had already hugged him, but he was still upset. I thought that maybe a kiss would help him." A part of Dorothea's brain told her it was a reasonable thing to say, but another part noted that she was just digging herself in to a hole.

"Do you have any feelings for him though?" Euphemia asked, leaning forward with a worried look on her face.

Running her hand through her hair, a look of confusion came to Dorothea's face. "I... I don't know."

Stepping up from her seat, Euphemia padded towards the older woman before taking her free hand, drawing the Knight's attention. Looking down, Euphemia's beaming smile greeted Dorothea's eyes.

"Don't worry, Dorothea," The princess said sweetly, "I'm sure you'll discover your feelings for him." Letting go of her hand, Euphemia moved past the older woman towards the door. "I'm going to head to my office. You can take your time."

With that, the young princess walked out of the room, a happy smile on her face as she left Dorothea to stand alone in the room, her mouth working up and down slightly as she tried to form her thoughts.

* * *

Tapping his finger in a rapid staccato on the top of his desk, Lelouch looked at the numbers on the laptop on the desk beside him.

The numbers were lower than what he had hoped for.

He knew that after the hotel-jacking, the number of new recruits to the Black Knights had gone up from their original seven members well in to the double digits, but Kallen's capture had shaken them. Not enough to cause a full revolt, but several had lost faith in Zero and left.

Still, all counted, the Black Knights now stood at a respectable fifty-six souls. Nowhere near the army Lelouch wanted, but it would easily do to put his sister on edge.

But there in lay his problem. For all of their numbers, the Black Knights only had sixteen Knightmares, eighteen if you counted his custom unit and the new model from Kyoto.

Clicking on his laptop, Lelouch brought up a picture of one of his new weapons. Burai they were called, specifically the Type-10R Burai. They were a Japanese produced version of the classic Glasgow, although from the file he read over, it was better to call them refurbished versions of cannibalised Glasgows. Looking at the picture on the screen of the kneeling Knightmare frame, Lelouch could see how the Japanese had turned their opponents weapons in to their own: a drab grey colour scheme with black pauldrons and bracers on the wrists helped to differentiate it from it's parent frame, but it's torso mounted machine gun and it's head, which was made in the fanged shape of the mythical oni, the monster of Japanese legend.

He had to admit that they looked fearsome enough, and he was sure that his own unit, with it's ornate red and gold crested head, would terrify any foot soldier.

But appearances were worthless without the skill to back them up.

Out of all of his subordinates, twenty-two had the necessary skills to pilot a Knightmare, including himself. The disparity in numbers frustrated him.

He couldn't fault the Kyoto Group for the number of Knightmares they sent. From what he had heard, the Burais had originally been slated for the Japanese Liberation Front and Lelouch had a feeling that the group had more frames in storage, but since they weren't forthcoming with the rest, Lelouch knew he had to make do. To them, the Black Knights were outsiders

And then there was the issue of the custom unit, the Guren MK-II. Clicking on another window on his laptop, Lelouch brought up the picture of the Knightmare in storage. Compared to a Burai, it was sleeker, more aerodynamically designed. Looking over the picture for the Frame, Lelouch took in the details of the red armoured machine: a humped back housing the cockpit, sharp lined appendages on it's shoulders almost reminded Lelouch of a crab, while the horn on it's head reminded him of a rhino. The large, metallic right arm which ended in three brutal looking claws didn't help the similarity to the undersea crustacean, although from the information he had been given, this was a new weapon from India. One he was looking forward to seeing in use.

"Zero?" A female voice called out his name as three knock sounded from behind the closed door.

"Come in." The masked revolutionary commanded, as he shut down the laptop, having gotten all the use he could from it for now before spinning on his chair to face the opening door.

"Inoue." Zero stated simply as the young Japanese woman entered the room. The indigo haired woman was, now with the loss of Kallen, the Black Knight's sole female member. Originally a part of the group the Black Knight's had grown from, Lelouch had found that Inoue had a brilliant capacity for organization and logistical work, so he had put her to work cataloguing all of the Blank Knights weapons, hand-held and otherwise, along with their vehicles and other supplies.

"I've just finished cataloguing all the Burais and their ammunition, Zero." The woman said clinically, standing smartly within the threshold of the door.

The exiled prince nodded his head as he pushed himself from his chair. "Thank you, Inoue. Do you know where C.C. is?"

As if on cue, the head of the long green-haired immortal appeared on the other side of the door. "You called." The witch said flatly.

'She does it on purpose. I know she does.' Lelouch mentally said to himself before speaking out loud. "I need to talk with you. In private."

Inoue nodded her head at the command, exiting the room as C.C. slunk in, stealing Lelouch's seat for her own before the Britannian had a place to turn around. Hearing the sound of her sitting in his chair, Lelouch simply sighed before shutting and locking the door. Removing his mask as he turned around, the teenager fixed his companion with a glare. "Do you have to do that?"

"What did you want me for, Lelouch?" C.C. replied, using the exiled prince's given name without a care of being heard. Not that either person minded. They knew that no-one could hear them within the sound proofed office.

"How's your training with Kent and the Knightmares going?" Lelouch asked as he walked to a small cabinet set against the room's far wall.

C.C. shrugged. "It's going well. We've worked out a deal that, when I do well, he gives me pizza."

Lelouch 'hmm-ed' in reply, a ghost of a smile gracing his face at Kent's intelligent use of pizza. Setting his mask down on a small table, he opened the cabinet. "I'm sure you've seen the Knightmares we've been given by the Six Houses of Kyoto."

"Indeed. They're impressive looking machines, especially that red one. Although I'd have preferred pink personally."

The teenage terrorist didn't say anything in reply as he took a small, metal nondescript box down from a shelf inside the cabinet. On the surface of the black metal lid was the symbol of the Black Knights, a stylized origami crane in silver. Turning around, he fixed C.C. with a cold look.

"I'm planning on leading the attack on the prison."

"Suicide." C.C. said distastefully.

"If this mission fails, then yes. That's why I need you, C.C."

Lelouch was certain he would remember the look of surprise that came over C.C.'s face at his words, so he decided to take it further with her stunned silence.

"With Kallen's loss, I am a king without a queen. You said you can't have me dying, so if I am to go in to battle, then you'll have to come with me. I need someone to watch my back and, at the moment, there's no-one I trust to do that more than you."

Opening the box, he extended his arms towards C.C. Stepping from her seat, the green-haired immortal peered inside the box. Nestled in a foam interior, was an activation key.

"C.C., I'm trusting you to pilot the Guren."

Reaching inside, the immortal witch pulled out the small piece of plastic before letting it rest in the palm of her hand. She looked at it like it was the most common thing in the world before raising her eyes to look at Lelouch, a mischievous glint passing for half a second.

"You know, if you liked me, you'd give me jewellery." C.C. purred out.

Instantly, Lelouch felt his face redden as anger began to take hold, but he didn't say anything as the woman before him hooked her finger through the keyring and began spinning it around, a small smile on her face.

"But don't worry. I won't have you dying on my watch. You still have yet to fulfil our contract."

Letting the key spin to rest against her palm, C.C. closed her fist before moving towards the door. Lelouch felt his anger fade away as the fact that the final piece of his plan fell in to place.

Picking up his helmet, he stared in to the reflective visor as he though on the coming battle. Holding it above him, he let the light catch the mask as he decided to paraphrase Shakespeare.

"Woe betide the man that raises his hand against me, he shall be quartered with the hands of War."

"I am still here, you know." C.C. said flatly.

* * *

"Achoo!"

Inside the Gloucester cockpit, Ciaran tried but failed to fight the sneeze that came upon him, the sound reverberating round the metal structure. Momentarily, his eyes were taken off the main view-screen, but a moment was all his opponent needed.

"Keep on your toes, Ciaran!" Darlton growled out, causing the young man's head to snap up as he saw the bright gold lance of the general's personal Gloucester quickly fill the main screen. Yanking on his control sticks, Ciaran rolled to the side, dodging the oncoming weapon as he brought up his own lance to batter it aside.

Seizing the initiative, Ciaran's Gloucester raced forward, lance held ready to spear his opponent. With contemptuous ease, Darlton rolled his machine to the side before pushing forward with his right arm. The screeching sound of tortured metal filled the large space as the general's lance speared right through the head of Ciaran's unit, tearing the mechanism right off in a small shower of sparks.

"And that's the match." Darlton said happily as he moved his lance to the recovery position, the purple machine standing up right as his opposing number slumped forward slightly, technical crews rushing forward to repair the damaged machine.

* * *

Clambering out from cockpit, Ciaran gave a small nod to the tech crewman who waited on the main gangway before moving to the ladder, gripping it and sliding down the rails like he had seen naval personnel do in movies. Touching the floor, he rolled his shoulders as the orange uniformed form of Derek came towards him, the blonde haired man shaking his head.

"Do you enjoy making my job difficult, Captain?"

The young man couldn't help but chuckle at the remark.

"Come on, Derek. You know you can fix it up."

The Britannian didn't say anything as he looked up at the injured unit and the shredded remains of the head.

"I can't tell from here, but the neck looks like it was a clean hit, so I can probably just put on a new head."

"How long will that take?"

Derek shrugged. "Probably an hour. Hour and a half, tops."

Ciaran nodded as he saw Darlton's form materialize from behind a bank of spare parts, the general crossing his arms across his large chest as he motioned for the young man to join him. Taking a step forward, Ciaran gave the engineer a quick pat on his shoulder before walking past him.

"I know you'll get it done, Derek." He called out behind him as he moved to join General Darlton. Nearing the older man, he saw the concerned look on the man's face.

"You were doing well, Ciaran. What happened back there?"

Ciaran shrugged. "I sneezed, sir."

A puzzled look crossed Darlton's face before he let his head drop with a chuckle, before sighing. "Oh, if it was anyone else, I'd say you were lying."

The young man's mouth fell open as a confused look came to his face, unsure of how to reply to the general's comments. A burst of static from the large intercom system interrupted any thought Ciaran had as a reply, as a female voice filled the space of the garage.

"General Darlton, Captain Forsyth. Your presence is requested in the Viceroy's office immediately. General Darlton, Captain Forsyth. Your presence is requested in the Viceroy's office."

Looking up at one of the speakers set towards the wall of the garage, Darlton let another puzzled look come to his face. "Now what's that about?"

"Guess we'll need to go and find out." The young man said as the duo quickly made their way to the exit of the garage. Making their way to the elevator quickly, Ciaran pressed the button to call the lift.

"Shouldn't we change out of our pilot suits?" The young man noted, looking down at his drab green one piece uniform.

"Do you want to keep Cornelia waiting?" Darlton asked with an upraised eyebrow, Ciaran nodding, quietly afraid at stirring the Princess' anger as the lift arrived. Bustling inside, Darlton pressed an express button for the elevator to reach the level of the Viceroy's office. In just over half a minute, the duo exited in to the hallway outside Princess Cornelia's office.

Reaching the entrance, Darlton knocked before pushing open the door, Ciaran trailing behind him to close the doors. Sitting at her desk, Cornelia had the same smile she wore at Saitama, making Ciaran swallow in trepidation as he and Darlton came to stand before her desk. To her side, Guilford stood as impassive as a statue as ever.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, gentlemen." Cornelia said, her disarming tone not matching her smile in anyway. "I've got some interesting news for you two. Here, take a look."

Reaching forward, the princess spread about half a dozen photos across the front of her desk. Looking at the photos, Ciaran saw what appeared to be a convoy of large trucks, about five in all, each carrying a large shipping container on the back. Judging from the angle of the photo, he assumed that it was taken by a speeding camera.

"They're not military..." Ciaran muttered to himself.

"Traffic cameras caught them coming out of Kyoto on Route One before moving on to Route Eight, along the coast." Cornelia said, not hearing the young man's observation. "That was at nine in the morning, no less than two hours ago."

"Your highness, you might need to explain something because I fail to see what you're driving at." Ciaran admitted, while Darlton picked up several of the photos to get a better look at them.

Reaching beside her, Cornelia took out another photo before handing it to the young officer. Taking it, Ciaran noted that, even though the quality was more grainy, he could just make out a similar vehicle. The container on the back wasn't as long as the vehicles in the convoy, but the truck was close enough to the same model as the others.

"That was taken on the night of the raid in Kitakyushu by an aerial reconnaissance drone." Cornelia said, crossing her legs. "Notice anything?"

"The trucks are the same make." Ciaran said, looking up from the photos.

"Any clue where they're heading to, your highness?" Darlton asked, cottoning on to the idea as well.

"Guilford?" Cornelia asked to her loyal knight, who coughed quietly in to his hands before speaking.

"If we assume that these trucks do indeed belong to the Black Knights, then I think it's safe to assume that they're heading to rescue their comrade we apprehended in Kitakyushu..."

Darlton chuckled softly. "So they're heading to the Nagano Military Prison then."

Cornelia nodded, uncrossing her legs as she leant forward. "General Darlton, I trust you have no objections in letting Lord Guilford lead this operation?"

A large grin came to the scarred general's face at the suggestion. "None whatsoever, your highness. I think it's about time Gil pulled his weight around here."

Guilford didn't say anything in reply, except to give a little snort of derision and a roll of his eyes. Cornelia gave a small nod before addressing the general again. "I feel that I need to address this question to you, General, but how is Captain Forsyth progressing with his Knightmare training?"

Looking up, Ciaran shared the contemplative look with Darlton before the older man spoke to the Princess. "Considering who his first training partner was, he's definitely advanced."

Shifting her gaze, Cornelia fixed her eyes on Ciaran. "I know this might be crass of me considering you're supposed to be on holiday, but I have to ask, Ciaran: do you think you'll be able to take part in this mission?"

The room fell silent as both men turned to look at the young captain. His eyes were focused on the photo of the convoy in his hands. Looking at the cabin of the truck, he stared at the windscreen: it was blacked out, making it impossible to see the driver. But something nagged at him as he looked at the vehicle.

"I screwed up once already with Zero," he said, his tone stronger than he intended it to be. "But if that sod is going to be there, then it's only right I'm there too."

Cornelia nodded with a smile. "Good. You and Lord Guilford will both command on the ground, but you'll be in charge of the Purist Faction."

"The Purist Faction?" Ciaran asked.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, your highness." Guilford asked, moving forward. "The Purebloods detest anyone who's not Britannian and to put someone like the Captain in charge..."

"The Purebloods are the reason we're here, Gil." Darlton intoned, something close to a sneer on his lips. "Putting Ciaran in command will show them that it's the Princess who is in charge, not them."

Cornelia nodded her head before Darlton spoke up again. "Although we do have a slight problem. Ciaran's Gloucester needs to be repaired and even if we use the aerial transports, the Black Knights will still have a head-start on us."

"He can use one of the spares." Cornelia said quickly. "Guilford, I suggest you get changed in to your pilot suit. Ciaran, you can head to the garage and get in to your new Gloucester. We'll be leaving when you're both ready."

With a nod of his head, Darlton patted the young man on his shoulder to tell him to follow as they exited the office. When they were outside, Darlton pinched the bridge of his nose before sighing.

"You know that you are allowed to say 'no', right?"

Ciaran shrugged before speaking. "I know, sir. But that bastard slipped through my fingers last time and I won't let it happen again."

Darlton nodded with a roll of his eyes. "You might fit in with the Purists after all. Go on, lad. Get to your frame."

Ciaran nodded as he started moving towards the elevator before Darlton called out to him. "And don't do anything stupid. If you mess up, it's my head for the chop!"

The young man gave a short bark of laughter at the general's words as he pressed the button to descend.

* * *

Drumming her fingers on her knees, Villetta Nu was as impatient as the rest of the men around her. She, along with the rest of the Purist Faction, had been called by Viceroy Cornelia's second-in-command, General Darlton, for a mission. But as they all sat in the belly of a G-1 base, the silver-haired woman, sitting in her regal looking pilot suit, began to wonder what was awaiting them as she stared at the blank screen before her. Around her were the remnants of the Purist Faction, totalling nine individuals, all talking to themselves. That was what remained after Princess Cornelia's 'cull', for lack of a better term. The lucky ones had been sent back to the Homeland, while the rest had apparently ended up in Euro Britannia.

"Any word on Lord Jeremiah?" She asked her neighbour, the hazel-haired Kewell Soresi. The man gave her an angry sideways glance before giving a small snort of derision.

"How should I know where Orange is?" The man said testily, his eyes turning back to face the screen in front of them. Looking to her side, she looked at the two vacant chairs to her right. She knew the immediate chair was for Jeremiah, but had no idea who the second one was for. Across from her, she could see the Knightmare pilots of the Royal Panzer Infantry brought over by Cornelia, a similar number of officers all talking amongst themselves.

A minor hush fell over the room as one of the side doors opened and many pairs of eyes turned to look upon the new arrival. Turning, Villetta let a small smile come to her face at the sight of Jeremiah Gottwald walking down towards his seat, dressed in his own pilot suit. The tall, turquoise haired man looked haggard, but then again, he had been that way ever since the incident with Kururugi and Zero. She knew that Jeremiah still carried himself with the same air that was expected of him as a noble, but she still worried about him.

Drawing near, Jeremiah took his place next to Villetta. Leaning sideways, she gave her friend a small smile before whispering to him. "You've not missed anything."

"Good." The man said, before turning his head to the side to talk to the man on the other side of Villetta. "Kewell."

The light brown-haired man didn't look at the new arrival. "Jeremiah."

Villetta could almost hear Jeremiah's teeth grind in annoyance and she shared his feelings. She had known him for six years, ever since their arrival in Area 11, and for all that time, Villetta had known him to be an insufferable person. A competent Knightmare pilot and as unremitting in their cause as any member of the Purist Faction, but there were many times that she had detested the man. And the attempt on Jeremiah's life was the last straw for any shred of respect that she had had for the man.

The noise of an opening door drew everyone's attention as a member of the Royal Guard stepped in, standing to one side of the door as he snapped to attention.

"Attention!" He called out, as all present in the room quickly stood to their feet, boots slamming together as they stood ready for orders. Entering through the door, Villetta recognised Lord Guilford, Cornelia's personal Knight. She had never seen the lord in his usual attire, so it was a surprise to see the man in his pilot suit, a combination of dark maroon, black and gold.

Although what was more surprising to the noblewoman was the figure that followed the bespectacled knight. He was shorter than Lord Guilford by a full head, and younger too, with a head of curly, dark brown hair and the makings of a beard. A bright red scar stood out on his right cheek, while his drab green pilot suit she had never seen before made Villetta wonder who he could be as the new individual took his place against the rear wall by the screen.

"Be seated." Lord Guilford said before waiting for everyone present to sit down in their chairs. Seeing them take their places, the nobleman began to speak. "As I'm sure that there are those of you who are wondering why you have been called here, so I shall keep this brief. We have received intelligence that armed terrorists are heading towards the Nagano Military Prison. We heavily suspect them to be the Black Knights."

At that announcement, everyone in the room became charged with energy, several people muttering angrily to each other. Looking down, Villetta saw Jeremiah's fists clench in anger. She could feel her own blood rise at the mention of the group.

Ignoring the commotion, Guilford continued speaking. "As such, the Viceroy has placed upon us the responsibility to make sure that the Black Knights are defeated."

A small cheer came up from the ranks of both the Purists and the Royal Panzers at the Knight's words, which he quickly silenced by waving them down. Villetta however was more curious than excited, raising her hand to catch Lord Guilford's sight. The man motioned for the woman to speak by nodding his head.

"My lord, do we know the reason as to why the Black Knights are making for the prison?"

To everyone's surprise, it was the young man in green who answered her question. "We have a high value individual who was taken captive during our raid in Kitakyushu two nights ago. They are being held in that prison."

"Indeed, Captain." Guilford said with a nod before addressing the room again. "Gentlemen, ma'am, allow me to introduce Captain Ciaran Forsyth of Her Highness' Royal Guard. It was due in no small part to his efforts at Kitakyushu that this high value individual was captured."

Villetta saw that the young man was about to say something but was interrupted as Lord Guilford continued speaking. "It is also by the Viceroy's command that Captain Forsyth be put in secondary command of this operation and as such he shall be in command of the Purist Faction. Captain, if you will take your seat."

The Knight motioned to the vacant seat next to Jeremiah, which Ciaran moved to with a small nod of his head as thanks as he moved towards the vacant seat. Sitting down, he gave a small nod to the two people seated beside him.

"M' lord. M' lady."

Both Villetta and Jeremiah replied with a nod of their own as they turned their attention back to Lord Guilford. However, Kewell decided to lean forward, his eyes filled with hostile intent as he fixed them on the Captain.

"I've seen many of the Royal Guards in my time, and I've never seen you before."

"Kewell, please let Lord Guilford continue." Jeremiah said, shutting his eyes in annoyance.

"Well, I did only arrive here a month ago, my lord." Captain Forsyth said amicably, a small smile on his face.

"Where from? The Homeland? Area 2?" Another Purist sitting on the other side of Kewell asked, a black-haired man, leaning to get a better view of the young officer.

"I'm surprised that you haven't guessed already, Lord Kewell," Guilford spoke up, drawing the man's attention. "I do think it should be quite obvious to tell by the Captain's accent that he is from the British Isles."

A flurry of cries came out from the Purists, with Villetta and Jeremiah staring at the young man with wide eyes who, in return, just cocked an eyebrow at them.

"I'd have thought it would be quite obvious." He said said in reply, not caring for the shocked looks directed at him.

"Indeed. Now if we can continue-" Cornelia's Knight began before he was interrupted again by Kewell.

"Now, wait a minute!" He called out, surging to his feet, his hand's tightened in fists. "Lord Guilford, with all due respect, are you telling us that we are to be led by this... this...?"

"Mongrel?" Ciaran chimed in, a raising his eyebrows as a smile came to his face which did little to assuage Kewell's fury.

Closing his eyes, Villetta saw Lord Guilford take in a breath, exhaling quietly before fixing Kewell with a cold stare. "What I expect you to do, Lord Kewell, is to sit down, be quiet and listen to orders. Like the good soldier you claim to be, or I shall have you removed from this operation and have you reassigned to somewhere less forgiving."

Villetta was taken aback by the quiet fury in the pony-tailed Knight's voice as he stared Kewell down, who slowly lowered himself to his seat. Lord Guilford wasn't done talking however as he continued staring down the hazel-haired Purist.

"Whether he is a Britannian or a Briton, Captain Forsyth has proved himself more than capable in the eyes of Princess Cornelia, her staff and myself. And need I remind you, all of you, who dare question the choice of Her Highness, that Captain Forsyth is a member of the Royal Guard, so any slight against him, is a slight against Princess Cornelia and the Emperor himself."

An uncomfortable silence fell on the room, as the members of the Purist Faction who had any lingering doubts shuffled on their seats like chastised school children. Even Villetta, who had her own misgivings fell silent in the face of Lord Guilford's quiet fury. To her side, she saw Jeremiah bristle with quiet anger, but she was surprised to see a thin, wry smile on him closed lips.

"Lord Guilford," Captain Forsyth spoke up, his voice taking on a professional tone as he leant forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "I do thank you, but at the risk of being rude, we are loosing daylight."

Nodding his head, Lord Guilford's expression became more businesslike as he spoke. "Yes, thank you, Captain. As he said, time is short, so I shall keep this brief. Lights."

At the Knight's command, the lights in the room went down and the screen came to life in a harsh white light, showing a map of the Nagano Military Prison and the surrounding area. Over the next few minutes, Lord Guilford went over the plan: leading the Royal Panzer Infantry, led by the Knight, would act as the main attacking force in the centre of the prison while Captain Forsyth and the Purists would act as a blocking force, keeping the Black Knights from escaping once they were engaged and, if necessary, be the blade that would sever the head of the snake.

Villetta didn't pay much attention to the plan, as she knew it would rely heavily on the cohesion between Lord Guilford and the Captain, but she still bristled for action anyway. Ever since the 'Orange' Incident, she and all the other Purists had be relegated to rear-echelon status or, as was the case of the skirmish in Saitama, shunted to reserve. Even if this mission did not mean they would finally be on the front-line.

The lights coming back on and the screen dimming was the indication that the talk was over. Straightening his back, Lord Guilford put his hands behind him as he addressed the room.

"I say this to you all: this mission is of vital importance. If we succeed here today, then we can put an end to this accursed rebellion once and for all. Because of that, Princess Cornelia has her eyes personally trained on this mission, so do not disappoint her. The eyes of Britannia herself are upon you!"

"All hail Britannia!" One of the Panzer Infantry roared, surging to his feet, his fist held over his heart as his compatriots stood to join his cry. Not to be outdone, all the Purists, including Villetta and Jeremiah stood, their fists held over their heart in salute as they echoed the cry. "All hail Britannia!"

Neither Lord Guilford nor Captain Forsyth made a move to copy their actions as the Knight spoke again. "Good. Now go to your staging areas and get ready."

Following Jeremiah, Villetta made for the exit to the garage where their Sutherlands waited, while the rest of the Purists began talking excitedly among themselves, the Royal Panzer Infantrymen doing the same as their opposite number. Looking back, she saw the young man in green get out of his chair to stand near Lord Guilford, gesturing at the map as he began having a conversation that was masked by the commotion in the room.

Entering in to a hallway, Villetta drew parallel to her friend as he began muttering. "First we get treated like the common soldiers, now we get given a bloody outsider as a commander. It's just insult upon insult."

The silver-haired woman could only give a nod in reply as they neared the loading bay, their resting Sutherlands in sight, the purple and red armoured machines ready to be loaded on to their aerial transports.

"At least we have the chance to be on the front-line this time." Villetta said, causing Jeremiah to stop and turn to face her. The nobleman's orange eyes still burned with anger, but only for a brief moment before his eyes softened in to something more friendly.

"Indeed, Villetta. I guess we can both take solace in that." The man said with a smile, which made Villetta smile herself.

"Lord Jeremiah!" A voice called out behind them, making both Knight's turn around. Behind them, they saw the green uniformed Captain walking towards them. The square set of his shoulders, the measured pace of his steps and the way he swung his arms in small arcs told Villetta that this man definitely had to be a military man.

"Captain." Jeremiah growled back as the young man drew close to the pair. Up close, Villetta tried to suppress the small smile she got from the fact that the Captain was nearly a full head smaller than Jeremiah.

"My lord." The Captain said, with a small bow of his head before glancing at the woman beside him before turning back to face the man before him. "Lady Villetta. I understand that me being in command of you and your compatriots has caused some... turmoil, shall we say, among your group."

"That's putting it mildly." Villetta muttered, loud enough for the Captain to hear, but he didn't seem to be bothered, his face holding a blank expression.

"Be that as it may, I shall be frank with this: I don't rightly care."

Both Jeremiah and Villetta were taken aback by the young man's words to interrupt him.

"I've been placed in secondary command of this operation by Princess Cornelia herself, and I intend to carry out that order as any good soldier would. I'm sure you understand, my Lord. You don't like me, and to be honest, my first impression of you and your group is not overly positive. But as I said, I don't care. We have a job to do, so let's get it done."

Jeremiah could only nod in reply, the young man's words touching his sense of duty.

"Now. Since we agree to that, I hope that we can put that earlier unpleasantness behind us. Fair?"

Villetta looked at the turquoise-haired knight, unsure of what his reaction to be.

"Fair enough." Jeremiah said a small nod of his head, which caught Villetta by surprise before she resigned herself to agreeing with the Captain's words. They were soldiers and they had a duty to fulfil.

"Captain Forsyth," Villetta spoke up, drawing the young officer's attention. "Allow me to apologise for Lord Kewell's behaviour. He can be a bit of a..." She trailed off as she was unable to find the right word to use.

"A bit of an arse?" The Captain asked, cocking his eyebrows. Both Purists were taken aback by his words, but Jeremiah quickly cracked a smile and chuckled at the man's choice of words.

"Ha! That's putting it lightly, Captain." Jeremiah replied, crossing his arms across his chest as he shook his head in bemusement.

A short burst of static from a unseen speaker drew the trios attention as Lord Guilford's voice came through. "Now hear this: all forces for the Nagano Offensive, we are moving out in two minutes. I repeat, we are moving out in two minutes."

Intent of hearing Guilford's words, neither Villetta or Jeremiah saw the young Captain move through the gap between them, making his way to his own Knightmare. So it was to their surprise that they heard the man call back out to them.

"Come on, you two. Let's go earn our pay-checks!"

Seeing the man walk off, Villetta couldn't help but smile as she saw Jeremiah shake his head with a smile. "I may not like him, but this could be fun."

Villetta replied with a nod before moving to her own Knightmare, Jeremiah moving with her to his frame parked nearby.

* * *

With a tumultuous roar, a single Lockheed C-150 transport aircraft climbed in to the sky, leaving the Tokyo Settlement behind as its gull-wing shaped wings cut through the early afternoon sky, white contrails flowing behind the tips of the wings.

Inside the body of the large aircraft, twenty Knightmare frames, eighteen Sutherlands led by two Gloucesters knelt in two rows. The former carried a mixture of assault rifles and anti-Knightmare rocket propelled grenades, while in the front, the Gloucesters carried an assault rifle and lance each. The pose of the Gloucesters matched their namesakes as Knights, their lances held upright while they knelt with heads bowed.

Inside his Gloucester, Ciaran looked over the small screen showing his squad-mate's status. Nine Knights, all ready and waiting for action. He was right that the racial beliefs of the Purebloods didn't bother him. His world or this one, there would always be people who considered one race or group superior to the others. It was inevitable. Although to see it manifest in such a way was staggering to him.

"Captain, are you ready?" Guilford's voice came through, the Knight's visage appearing in a small box on the main screen of his Gloucester.

"Aye, my lord. Just taking stock of this whole situation." He admitted as he leaned back in his cockpit, as Cornelia's Knight nodded.

"You're here now, and that's all there is to it," Guilford said sympathetically. "I trust that you aren't too bothered by the words of Lord Kewell and his... cronies."

Ciaran couldn't help but chuckle at the choice of words. "Not at all, my lord. It doesn't matter anyway. As soon as we hit the ground, all that's out of the window."

"Indeed, Captain. Combat does well at focusing the mind." Guilford agreed. "Try and get some rest. We'll be arriving in half an hour. And best of luck."

"Aye, my lord. Same to you." Ciaran replied as he saw Guilford's face blink, leaving him looking at the inside of the loading ramp, the dark interior of the transport staring back at him. Leaning his head to rest fully back on the headrest of his chair, the young Briton's mind thought back to a line from Shakespeare, to his favourite play.

"Once more unto the breach, dear friends. Once more unto the breach. Or close the wall up with our English dead."

* * *

 **AN: And here is chapter 13! I will be honest, the further this story deviates from the canon, the harder it gets to write. But that's not a bad thing.**

 **Thanks go to A D Fields again for helping me with chapter.**

 **I did intend for their to be a large fight in this chapter, as I'm sure many of you might have guessed from reading, but my own imposed limit on chapter length worked against me. But I'm pleased with how it came out. Apart from that, I'm not going to say much else.**

 **However, these is something I do need to say: additional thanks go to mrthischarmingman2 for creating... a page for my OC on the Code Geass Fanon Wiki! As you can tell, I'm quite happy since... well, I never imagined anyone writing a wikipage for any thing I've done. Just type in Ciaran Forsyth on the main page and you'll find it.**

 **So again: read, enjoy, review and if you want to talk about the chapter or other things to do with A Brave New World, just shoot me a PM.**


	14. Chapter 14

Crouching beside a tree overlooking the road that lead to the entrance of the Nagano Military Prison, Kaname Ohgi looked intently through his binoculars at the foreboding structure. It was at least twenty-five metres high, casting everything around it in shadow, while tall towers made it look like something from the old European storybooks his dad would read from when he was a kid.

Feeling the sweat trickle down the back of his neck, although he wasn't sure if it was from the heat or the fear, Ohgi had to admit to himself that was bricking it. Even though he had the utmost trust in their leader, the man had to admit to himself that this would be a difficult task. But he pushed his fear down as he remembered the mission.

Rescuing Kallen was the most important thing.

And for Ohgi that was more than just because the Black Knights needed her. There was no denying that everyone else in the group who had had the training fell way short of Kallen's skill with a Knightmare, but to Ohgi that wasn't his main reason for being here, scouting the entrance to the prison.

Ever since he had known her brother, Naoto, Ohgi had always been in contact with Kallen in some way or another. His job as a student teacher had kept him around young children for several years before the War, so Naoto, in his own way, would often get Ohgi to help the little red-headed girl with her homework, giving her small hints on work she found too hard. And every time she got a good grade, Ohgi would find her small arms wrapped around his waist as she hugged him, a bright smile on her face.

Naoto's death had crushed that part of her. He never saw her smile much, and when she did, Ohgi would question if the teenage terrorist he saw was the same girl he used to share his ramen with.

"P1. Come in." Zero's deep voice came from his belt, bringing Ohgi back in to the present.

Hearing his personal designation being called, the pompadour-haired terrorist unclipped the radio from his belt before bringing it up to his mouth.

"P1 here."

"P1, what's the status on the front gate?" The masked leader asked.

Bringing his binoculars back up to eye level, Ohgi once more looked at the prison entrance. A double width tarmac road led to the large, ten metre high doors of the prison built in to the wall. The doors in turn were protected by a pair of large bunkers, which Ohgi saw were manned by both anti-personnel and anti-Knightmare weapons. Barbed wire, floodlights and checkpoints made sure that no intruder who tried to come through would go undetected, and he was sure that there were more nasty surprised waiting for anyone foolish enough to try going through the front on foot.

Peering down from his perch, Ohgi could make out the form of around a dozen men walking back and forth.

"Zero, I see twelve guards, along with anti-personnel and anti-Knightmare weapons in bunkers at the front. There's no way we're getting on foot."

The voice that came through sounded almost amused at his words. "Don't worry, P1. We will not be going in on foot. Return to base."

"Roger that." Ohgi replied, switching off the radio and hanging it from his belt. Standing up from his position in a crouch, the man did his best to stretch out the ache he felt in his muscles. As he stood up, he looked at the wall before him. The sun came out from behind some clouds and was caught by one of the towers, bathing everything in shadow once more.

Ohgi shivered before he walked back to the temporary encampment the Black Knights had set up, but for the life of him, he wasn't sure if it was from fear or adrenaline.

* * *

Climbing up from her cockpit, Villetta stretched out her back, hearing a small click as air bubbles between the joints popped. It was the first time she'd ever been inside a Knightmare transported in such a way. Being transported sitting upright instead of facing down as she had in the Hawker transports she was accustomed to was a new experience for her, and for all of the other Purists, she was sure. Looking around, the other pilots were doing the same, going through various movements to unlimber sore muscles and joints.

It had definitely been a day of firsts for her though. Their arrival at the prison had certainly been an experience: instead of landing and waiting for the C-150 to come to a stop, Lord Guilford and Captain Forsyth had ordered for the rear-ramp to lower while the plane maintained it's taxiing speed, meaning the two groups sped out at high speed from the belly of the plane, clearing the runway as the large aeroplane climbed in to the sky once more.

"Tactical necessity." Forsyth said when questioned about the choice to enter the prison in such a manner.

After entering the prison, the group quickly split. Lord Guilford stayed in the prison complex, where he took command of the Knightpolice units stationed in the prison. His layout was something akin to a pentagram in design, with the Knight's personal Gloucester standing right in the centre of the prison, surrounded on all sides by four of the prisons tall guard towers that sat in the middle of the prison courtyard.

Captain Forsyth and the Purists left the prison complex, exiting through a side entrance and entering in to a commanding position that overlooked the prison. It was a hill that had been cleared of almost all flora save for the occasional scrub, which Villetta assumed to allow the prison snipers to get better shots on escapees. Now, it was currently host to the ten Knightmares and death would be coming from outside the prison not the inside.

"All right, everyone. Take five to do what you have to do." The captain called out from on top of his Gloucester, standing up in the cockpit of the purple machine. "If you need to use the toilet, find a bush and just do what comes natural."

Hopping off from his perch, the female Purist saw the green uniformed captain activate the winch to lower him down to the floor.

"Because that is certainly what I am going to do." The young man said quickly before rushing out of sight quickly to find a suitable bush out of sight of the people under his command.

Villetta tried to suppress the snigger that came to her throat as she heard Kewell's voice came in to her ear by her earpiece. "This is who we've got leading us? Pathetic."

"Yes, forgive me for having sensitive bowls, my lord." Forsyth's voice came through on the radio, catching Villetta by surprise, the noblewoman rolling her eyes. "Also, you are on open comms. Over."

A small burst of laughter came from Jeremiah's Sutherland, the blue-haired man leaning against the top of his Knightmare at Kewell's grimace of annoyance. Looking over, Villetta saw her friend's mouth pulled back in to a grin. "We're going to be here for a while. May as well get comfortable."

Soon, the members of the Purists began talking among themselves, split in to their own groups. Kewell drew small group around him, four pilots forming a circle around the hazel-haired man as he climbed down from his Sutherland. Deciding to stretch her legs, Villetta activated the winch on her Knightmare, lowering herself to the ground. Touching the ground, the silver-haired woman heard the sound of foliage being trodden through as the captain made his way back to his Knightmare, wiping his hands with a large leaf which he quickly dispensed of.

"That was not comfortable." She heard the man mutter to himself.

"Combat shits never are." The woman said as she took a seat on the foot of her machine. Her words had a different affect to what she expected as she heard him stop before barking with laughter.

"What was that, my lady?" The young man asked, as she saw him walking towards him, turning slightly on her perch, a bemused look on his face as she gave a small chuckle.

"Surprised to hear a lady speak in such a manner?" She queried, an aloof tone to her voice as the green-uniformed man drew close.

Captain Forsyth let his mouth open and close a couple of times before he simply shrugged. "I don't really know what to say."

Villetta fixed him a hard stare for a couple of seconds before she smiled and shook her head. "It's all right, Captain. I'm not a noblewoman anyway, so don't be so surprised."

"Not a noblewoman?" The young man asked, confusion on his face.

"She means that she even though she's a Knightmare pilot, she's not a true noble, Captain." Jeremiah's voice rolled out as he advanced towards them. "Something we hope to fix soon."

"We?" The captain asked.

"Myself and Lord Jeremiah." Villetta answered, seeing the young officers confusion.

"Ah, of course." The young man replied, leaning against the foot of the Sutherland and crossing his arms across his chest. "I did kind doubt that a noblewoman would speak in such a manner as before."

Villetta rolled her eyes at the young captain's words.

"So who did you serve with before you joined the Purists, my lady?"

"The Ninety-Fifth Imperial Rifles, then I got posted to the Seventeenth Royal Panzer Infantry. I met Lord Jeremiah when we were sent to Area 11 during the Invasion."

"And the rest is history." Jeremiah said, giving the woman a sincere smile.

"The rest is history." Villetta copied, nodding her head. Just mentioning the invasion brought back memories to the silver-haired woman. Of her joy in being given command of her own Glasgow, her awe in seeing them in action, and her surprise at being placed under the wing of a former member of the Imperial Royal Guard.

"Captain Forsyth!" Kewell's voice snapped Villetta from her memory as, looking up, she saw Kewell and his group plus the left over pair walking towards them. "What's the plan here? Are we just to sit out here with our backsides in the wind?"

The captain couldn't help but chuckle at the man's impatient, while Jeremiah and Villetta were just annoyed. But the young man chose to indulge him as he pushed himself off the Sutherland's foot, his arms still crossed over his chest.

"Have you ever been hunting, Lord Kewell?" Captain Forsyth asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Of course." Came the testy reply.

"Well good. Then you'll know the best way to catch your prey then, I take it?"

Silence fell over the group as Kewell fixed with the captain with a confused, angry stare.

"Let the prey come to you." Forsyth said, ignoring the look being given to him as he walked a few paces away from the group, not giving Kewell any chance to speak. "Now we have no clue as to where the Black Knights have their base of operations, whether it's mobile or otherwise, so to search for them would be a colossal waste of effort, and it would also mean that we would be diverting manpower away from vital locations, leaving the Black Knights to hit wherever they wanted with impunity. Something that the Viceroy really wants to avoid."

Looking at him, Villetta saw that the captain's gaze was fixed on the caped Gloucester standing in the middle of the prison.

"The plan is simple, Lord Kewell," The green-uniformed captain intoned, his becoming more professional. "When the Black Knights breach the walls of the prison-"

"If they breach it." One of the Purists quickly butted in.

" _When_ they breach the prison," Forsyth snapped, equally as fast, turning his head to fix the man with a cold glare. "We would not be here if we did not know for certain that Zero and his cronies would come. Regardless, when they come, Guilford will spring the trap, engaging the enemy with the force under his command. When he does so, we will enter the prison, circle round to which ever direction they entered from and cut off their retreat. Simple as."

"So we'll be keeping the door shut." Villetta said, a little bit let down at the prospect of not having a go in combat.

"Oh, on the contrary, my lady." Forsyth said, spinning on one of his heels as he spread his arms wide in a theatrical gesture, a smile plain on his face. "We're the most important part of the mission. Why, if it were just Lord Guilford's force, the Black Knights could come it, take the HVI and be off in a flash. Not to speak ill of Guilford's combat abilities of course."

Villetta flashed Jeremiah a worried look, while the turquoise-haired man just looked confused while the captain continued.

"No. Our part of the plan is to cut off Zero's retreat and, if we're lucky, encircle him and destroy his forces, capture the man, unmask him, and we can all go back to living our lives. Sounds quite important to me."

Kewell was silent, thinking over the young captain's words before he simply nodded and walked off, his group following behind him. The duo who had joined them stayed behind though as they came closer to the captain.

"Do you know what the rules of engagement are?" One man, with sandy-blonde hair asked, to which Captain Forsyth shrugged.

"Don't know. Lord Guilford will say when the action starts."

The second man, with dark brown hair, stepped forward. "Are you really sure that Zero will come here?"

Again, the young captain shrugged, but as he spoke, Villetta was sure that he heard a tone of anger in his voice.

"I don't know. But I'll bet you anything that he turns up himself."

The only sound that came as a reply was the wind whipping through the scarce foliage. Looking up, Villetta saw a savage grin come to Jeremiah's at the prospect that Zero would personally be there.

"All right everyone," Captain Forsyth said, addressing everyone. "Get back to your Knightmares. Keep them battle ready but don't waste the energy. We'll need it for the fight."

* * *

Sitting in the cockpit of his Gloucester, Gilbert Guilford waited patiently with his arms crossed across his chest, his eyes fixed on the main screen before him. The view was of the main entrance to the prison, a gigantic set of metal double doors, each one taller than a Knightmare and thicker than one as well.

Any logical person would not attack such a position. It was just too obvious. Any defender would make sure his forces were focused around the entrance. Any of the other walls would make a perfect entrance point for any would be attacker. So that's why Guilford had his forces, a combination of Royal Panzer Infantry Sutherlands and drafted Knightpolice, stationed right in the middle of the large prison yard.

Zero was unpredictable. So he had to be ready for anything, and everything.

A small chiming preceded a small box popping up in the corner of his main view-screen, as Captain Forsyth's face came up. Looking at the young man's face, the Knight saw that he was sitting with his cockpit open, letting the blue sky frame his face.

"Any activity on your end, my lord?" The young captain asked, sounding quite anxious.

"None at all, Captain," Guilford said in reply, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It's all quiet over here. Although I do doubt that Zero won't show. He's too much of a showman."

"Tell me about it." Captain Forsyth replied, leaning against one of his hands while he rested his arm on his knee. "If he was on our side, he'd have his own cartoon show."

Guilford couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image of the masked terrorist being the star of a TV show. "I don't doubt that for a second, my young friend."

"Oh, I'm a friend now?" The young man replied, perking up slightly, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

Guilford opened his mouth, ready to reply, before another chime went off as a second small video screen appeared, revealing the visage of one of the Knightpolice pilots, his face obscured by a helmet similar to a gunship pilot's.

"Lord Guilford, the main doors are opening."

"Hold that thought, Captain. What do you mean, sergeant?" Cornelia's Knight commanded, his tone shifting from something jovial to more orderly.

"The main gates are opening. I'm trying to raise the main guards but they're not responding!" The Knightpolice pilot replied, starting to panic.

Looking through the main view-screen, Guilford saw that the man was right. The large blast doors were opening, receding in to the tall, thick walls surrounding them.

Keying his speakers to broadcast to all forces, Guilford spoke. "All units, we have unidentified movement at the main gates. Move to red-con one. I repeat: all units, assume red-con one posture and be ready for action."

"Yes, my lord!" Came the reply from all pilots in unison. Without having to check, he knew that the captain and the Purists under his command would be climbing in to their cockpits, if they weren't in their machines already, and checking their weapons, each Knightmare priming their rifles to have one round nestled in the chamber before setting the weapon on safe. Guilford did the same, his Gloucester pulling it's large assault rifle from it's housing on it's back before letting it fall to his side. His unit's lance was held ready beside him, it's brutally sharp point directed straight up at the sky.

Activating his Factsphere, Guilford focused his Gloucester's screen on the maw of the prison gate as it opened to it's full extent. Driving directly through the gate, were four of the lorries that he had been shown at the briefing earlier that day, coming straight for the middle of the prison yard at high speed. The bespectacled knight sneered at the vehicles in contempt. They were ugly things: slap-fronted rigs with black-tinted windows, painted in dark grey and black, with twelve wheels to each vehicle, and a large container placed on the back.

"So is this it, Zero?" Guilford asked out loud, not bothering to activate his loud-hailer. "You intend to rescue your comrade with nothing but these trucks?"

As soon as the last syllable had left his mouth however, the Knight watched as the containers on the backs burst open in a cacophony of black smoke and bright flashes, the vehicles continuing their advance in to the prison.

"Lord Guilford! Be careful!" One of the Royal Panzer pilots called out as Guilford readied his Knightmare, sliding his stance from neutrality to action, bringing his lance down parallel with the ground and flicking the internal safety of his assault rifle.

The Knight's instincts had been correct because, as the first vehicle screamed past him, trailing a brutal tail of dark smoke, another shape appeared from the darkness. A shape that Guilford would recognise anywhere.

"Knightmares!" The man called out as his Gloucester swung it's rifle up, firing a burst as it rolled backwards. The Knightmare that had appeared before him was something that could only be described as ugly: coloured the same black and grey as the vehicle that had borne it, Guilford could only assume that it was a knock-off of the venerable Glasgow, the same Knightmares that brought Area 11 to it's knees. On it's wrists, it appeared to have large flaps that flare out backwards and it's head was something brutal: square shaped like it's armour, save for the round housing of it's Factsphere, it had two small protuberances on it's 'cheeks', shaped like fangs that went upwards.

The new Knightmare carried the same type of assault rifle as Guilford's Gloucester, which it quickly brought upwards and began firing a large burst at the purple machine. But the Knight's machine was on the move, and all of the shots went wide.

"All units! Engage! Captain Forsyth, get down here, now!" He called out over the open channel as more enemy Knightmares emerged from the long trail of smoke, each one firing indiscriminately at the Britannian units as they emerged from cover. Out of the corner of his eye, Guilford saw that they had already downed a few of the Knightpolice units, two of the white machines slumping to the ground as their cockpits ejected. Two more weren't so lucky as their pilot blocks were perforated with heavy calibre rounds before the machines exploded

Collecting himself, Guilford quickly took stock of the situation: the Black Knights had engaged all of his forces in a running battle, with none of the black Knightmares staying stationary as the attacked. Although it possessed none of the skill and finesse of the tactics taught to the pilots of the Britannian Knightmare pilots, the speed and shock of the attack had done it's work.

"Captain Forsyth!" Guilford called out in to a secure channel with the young officer. "Are your units in position yet?"

"Almost, my lord." Came the reply. "We've just cleared the base of the prison wall and have the enemy in sight. Pardon me for saying so, but it looks like hell over there."

"It's nothing I can't handle, captain. When you get here, engage at your discretion." Guilford replied, a small grin on his face, rolling his Gloucester to the side as another wave of smoke nearly enveloped his machine. The black pall obscured his vision, forcing him to activate his Factsphere again. The timing could not have been better for him, for not a second after the resolved image came through his screen, Guilford saw a large claw come out of the smoke directly in front of it, it's three brutal digits out stretched, ready to ensnare his Knightmare.

* * *

Pushing her control stick forward, C.C. made the Guren lunge at the purple Knightmare in front of her but the enemy pilot had to be a veteran as they easily sidestepped the frontal attack before bringing their rifle up to fire a close-range burst at the red armoured machine. Wrenching her machine to the side, the green-haired immortal retreated in to the smoke, putting as much distance between her and her enemy as the rounds whipped through the black smoke, tearing holes through the darkness.

Seated on the motorbike-like seat, C.C. couldn't help but be impressed by the engineering that went in to the design of the Guren. The machine had obviously been meant to respond to someone with a higher skill with Knightmares than she possessed, but C.C. couldn't complain as the machine handled smoothly. Even the seat she was straddled over, which looked to be something uncomfortable the first time she had seen it, but now she was on it, it felt like she was wearing the Guren rather than piloting it.

Activating her Factsphere, the immortal woman quickly scanned through the smoke as thermal imaging enhanced the world immediately around her. The enemy pilot wisely chosen not to follow her in to the smoke, instead choosing to stand it's ground. Scanning the area, C.C. saw that the other units were not following their leader's choice, as they fought running battles with the Black Knights' Burais.

"Zero! We've got ten more Britannian Knightmares cutting us off from the exit." Ohgi's voice came through the Guren's internal speakers.

"Ignore them!" Came the reply, Zero's, or should that be Lelouch's, voice cutting through any reply. "We're here to rescue Kallen. They won't have a chance of stopping us."

Even with the enhanced view granted by the Factsphere, C.C. strained her eyes to see through the extremities of the smoke. She could see ten more thermal images, each in the shape of a Britannian Knightmare frame, taking up position in a long line at the entrance to the slowly closing door, before wheeling around to speed towards the fray. C.C. couldn't help but smile at their inactivity, knowing they couldn't charge in or fire their weapons in to the smoke for fear of the risk of hitting their comrades.

"C.C." Lelouch's voice came through in to her speaker. "I want you to take Kent's squad and try to find where Kallen is."

"Got it." The immortal replied before contacting Kent and his squad. Although to call it a squad would be a bit of stretch since it was just Kent and one other Burai. "Kent, you and Asato come with me. We're going to try and find Kallen."

"Do we have any idea where she is?" Kent asked, to which C.C. shrugged, even though she knew that Kent couldn't see her.

"No clue. But the best bet would be the most heavily guarded part of the prison." C.C. said dryly as the Guren and the two Burais rushed out of the black smoke. Quickly blinking away the bright sunlight, she scanned the area in front of her. It was a large, five sided tower, well over a hundred feet tall with five thick, rectangular buildings spread out from the base of the tower. The Guren's scanner couldn't pierce through the walls of the building, so there was only thing open to them.

"Kent, Asato. You two go for the wing marked 'A'. I'm going for the wing marked 'E'." C.C. called over the Guren's inbuilt radio.

* * *

Inside her cell, Kallen could easily hear the roar of the battle outside as the building seemed to shake. She couldn't see the action. The only window in to her part of the wing was too high up the wall for her to see out of it. But she could easily hear the harsh, rattling bangs of heavy calibre weapons and the crash of Knightmares falling.

Pushing herself up from the floor, Kallen moved forward to the front of her cell as she heard the sounds of rushing footsteps coming down the hall in front of her cell. Trying her best to see around the corner in to the hallway, Kallen saw two guards rush to in front of her cell door. Each man had an expression of panic on their face as they rushed forward.

With a note of fear, Kallen noted that each man carried a submachine gun.

"What the hell's going on?" The first of the pair, a dark skinned man asked, as he looked around him, expecting the answer to appear.

"It's the fucking Black Knights!" The second man, a light skinned man, snarled as he looked down the corridor himself.

The mention of the terrorist group made Kallen's heart soar. The fact that they were even meant that Zero...

"What do we do about the prisoner?" The first guard asked, looking fearfully at Kallen. Even given her currently bound state, the redhead couldn't help but sneer at the man's fear. But the look fell from her face as she saw the second man check the chamber of his submachine gun.

"I can't get in contact with command, but if the Black Knights want her." The second part of the sentence was left unsaid as he raised his weapon to his shoulder, the barrel aimed directly at the prisoner.

Kallen felt herself pitch backwards before she pushed herself back against the wall with her feet as the armed guard advanced towards the door of her cell.

"You do know that door is bulletproof, right?" The first guard questioned, looking at his colleague in confusion.

"Then open the fucking door!" The second man roared, his eyes fixing his colleague with a hard stare while Kallen stared in fear down the barrel of his gun.

Lifting his hand up, the dark-skinned guard pressed the button to make the cell door open, the clear glass-like substance receding in to the wall slowly. Advancing inwards, the armed guard walked in to the cell, moving closer to the fearful girl.

"One less terrorist to care about." The man taunted as Kallen saw his finger press down on the trigger, before she closed her eyes in fear.

The explosion of sound and pressure forced the girl to retreat further in to the corner of her cell, pushing her painfully against the brickwork. Her ears were ringing painfully, a high-pitched whine the only sound she could hear as she tried to blink through the haze of dust. Clearing her vision, Kallen saw that the two guards were dead, the exploding wall the cause of their deaths. The one inside her cell had been struck in the back of the head by flying brickwork, his body laying unblinkingly on the floor next to her. Of the second guard, Kallen couldn't see anything, but judging by the smear of blood on the floor in front of the cell, she could only presume that he had been killed by the combination of the explosive pressure and the brickwork.

Her vision clearing, Kallen looked up at the wall across from her and, if it was any more possible, Kallen pushed herself further in to the corner at what she saw silhouetted by the sunlight: a Knightmare, painted entirely black, it's fist punched clean through the wall of the building.

* * *

"I've got her!" Asato Taisho called out over the radio, glee in his voice. Before the mission, Sugiyama-senpai had shown him a photo of the person they were here to rescue, a red-haired girl by the name of Kallen. And looking through the enhanced image on his view-screen, Asato smiled as he realised that the task given to him had been completed.

At twenty-five years old, the black-haired, green-eyed, former electrical engineering student remembered the Britannian invasion vividly. How he'd seen his family home in Kyoto reduced to rubble by bomber aircraft, how his family had been detained as they travelled to Niigata to get on to a freighter bound for the Korean Peninsular by Britannian soldiers and had been forced to live in one the ghettos. His father had pressed him to make the most of it, saying that even the Britannians would recognise Asato's abilities and make him an Honorary Britannian.

The arrival of the Black Knights changed that. Broadcast all over Japan, even in to the ghettos, all Japanese watched as Zero, the masked leader of the Black Knights, announced the formation of his group and his victory over the cowardly JLF. Asato, along with others, had been impassioned by the display of power that Zero gave and the brazen tenacity of the man to execute it in front of Princess Cornelia herself no-less. Against his father's urgings, the young Japanese man set out to join the group.

And now, in the centre of the military prison built in the centre of the Nagano lowlands, Asato's goal had been achieved as he withdrew his Burai's fist from the hole created in the wall as Sugiyama-senpai's Burai rushed towards him.

"Did you find her, Asato?" The blue-haired, bandanna-wearing revolutionary asked before his own Burai drew level with Asato's, it's head turning to look inside the building. A short exclamation of joy came over the mic before Sugiyama spoke again. "Zero! We've got her!"

"Good. I'm sending CC to assist you now." Came the reply.

Asato let a broad grin come to his face: he was doing something. He was helping in the liberation of Japan. While Zero probably wouldn't say it out loud, Asato knew that this was the masked man's goal: to throw the chains of Britannian rule off of Japan and restore it to it's former glory.

The loud beeping of the Burai's early warning system caused Asato's grin to fall from his face as, turning his head, he saw three red dots advancing quickly on his position from the right. And he meant quickly.

"Senpai! Three Britannian Knightmares coming up fast on our nine o'clock." The young man called in to his mic.

Sugiyama-senpai's Burai spun around, raising it's assault rifle as the enemy came in to site: two Sutherlands with red shoulder pauldrons, led by a single deep purple Gloucester armed with a lethal looking lance.

"Oh, crap!" Asato swore as he made his Burai raise it's rifle and began firing, Sugiyama-senpai pouring his own fire at the trio.

The Sutherlands veered off to the side, leaving the Gloucester to charge directly at the pair of black Knightmares, it's body held low as it raced towards them. Asato couldn't help but smile at the pilots foolhardiness.

But the Gloucester kept advancing, racing towards Asato at a speed that neither of the Japanese pilots had seen before, it's lance held ready to spear through one of the Burais.

And the lance was aimed straight at Asato's unit.

"Oh, shit!" The young freedom fighter called out as he forced his Burai to back-pedal, still firing his rifle even as he retreated. But the Gloucester was faster as it's lance pierced through the middle of the Burai where it's stomach, if it was a human, would be. The speed of the Gloucester and the force of the hit meant that Asato's Burai was pushed backwards as the lance dug further in to it's target.

A red warning light lit the inside of the Burai, warning it's pilot of impending catastrophic failure.

"Asato! Eject, now!" Sugiyama called out over his mic, before he was forced to eject too, his Burai riddled with heavy calibre slugs from the two flanking Sutherlands.

"Right!" Asato replied, tugging on the ejection panels inside his cockpit, sending the pilot block screaming in to the air. He had to be about thirty metres off the ground when he felt the parachute deploy, letting him float to the ground.

* * *

Withdrawing his lance, Ciaran moved his Gloucester away from the black Knightmare before it exploded, letting out a whoop of joy at the kill. Well, he hadn't killed the machine's pilot, but that was one enemy unit down for the count. Two with the one gunned down by the Purists.

"One down for the Purists!" One of the Sutherland pilots called out over the mic, and the young captain couldn't help but smile at the sentiment.

A display of Lord Guilford's face appeared on Ciaran's main screen, the bespectacled man grimacing slightly as he fought his own personal battle.

"Captain. Where are you?"

"Over by the maximum security wing, my lord." Ciaran replied. "One of the Black Knights' Knightmares punched a hole clean through the wall. I think they found the prisoner."

"Noted. I... hang on, captain." Guilford's image blinked out, the Knight obviously focusing on his fight.

Glancing around, Ciaran saw that he and his two compatriots were on the edge of the black smoke, well away from the fighting and any other units. Looking back in to the building, the young man quickly put his mind in to action and came up with a plan.

"Robertson, Lancell. You two give me cover! I'm stepping out for the moment!" Ciaran called out as he moved closer towards the prison wing. "I want you two to give my Gloucester cover for me while I'm out of combat."

"Copy that, captain." The two pilots.

Wheeling the Gloucester round so it's back face the ragged hole in the wall of the prison wing, Ciaran made sure that his two companions were in place before keying his mic.

"Lord Guilford, I'm exfilling the HVI! I'll be out of the fight for about five minutes."

The bespectacled Knight's voice came through quickly, gunfire filling the background. "Nothing takes five minutes, Captain!"

Letting out a short chuckle, Ciaran made his Knightmare kneel down before pulling back on the mechanism to slide the cockpit out of its housing. Clambering out of the machine, the young man landed on the rear of the machine's knee before bouncing to land on the floor. Unclasping the cover of his holster, he brought his pistol up before racking the slide, revealing the solid brass slug sitting in the chamber. Snapping the slide back in to place, he cocked the hammer back before holstering the pistol as he advanced over the rubble in to the prison.

Entering the empty corridor, he paused a moment to take in the destruction before him. The Knightmare had completely torn through the wall, which had to be at least three feet thick, battering aside concrete, mortar and metal on to the floor. He had thought that it had also smashed through the housing of the cell opposite the wall, but seeing the corpse of the guard in the cell and the large stain on the floor and wall told him that one of the two had opened the cell. Looking in to the cell proper, he could see a figure pushed up tightly against the far corner of the cell.

Running down the small slope of rubble as fast as he dared, Ciaran hopped off the last bit of stone and in to the opened cell. Drawing near to the person, he saw that it was a young teenage girl. She had to only be a few years older than Euphemia, with a shock of red hair and blue eyes, which now stared, unfocused, past him. Her body, wiry but strong, was constrained in an off-white straitjacket, her arms clasped behind her back. Stencilled above her left breast was the name ' '.

"Hey, can you hear me?" The captain asked, shaking the girl before him gently. Her unfocused eyes blinked several times as she moved her head to stare at the man before her.

"Wha..?"

"Are you all right?" Ciaran asked, genuine concern for her well-being coming through. Glancing down, he couldn't see any immediate injuries.

"I-I'm fine." The girl stammered out, nodding her head.

Moving his hands to her shoulders, Ciaran looked the girl in the eyes. "Good. Right, what's your name?"

"Kallen. My name's Kallen."

"Right, good. Now listen to me carefully, Kallen: right now, you're in a fair amount of danger, so I'm moving you somewhere safer. Okay? Can you walk?"

Kallen responded with a nod before Ciaran helped her stand up, using his own arms as support to lift her up from the wall. When she was standing on her feet, Ciaran moved away to peer around the corner of the cell, checking both ends of the hallway before taking a hold of the girl's shoulder and pulling her along with him out of the cell.

Picking their way quick;y through the rubble, the duo made their way through the hall in silence, the sound of the combat outside echoing hollowly through the building as the duo reached entrance to the prison wing. Gripping the bars of the door, Ciaran gave them a quick rattle, testing to see if they would open.

"Is anyone there?" The captain called out, peering between the bars in to the room beyond, a cross-section between several wings.

"Who's there?" A voice called out from around the corner of the wall.

"I'm Captain Forsyth of the Viceroy's Royal Guard. Open up, I'm moving the prisoner to a safer location."

Out from the corner, a guard appeared, dressed in the pale blue uniform, marked with the bright red arm band and beret of the military police stepped out in to Ciaran's view. His knuckles were as white as his face as he clutched his submachine gun tightly. Seeing the officer on the other side of the gate made him relax though as he stepped forwards, pressing the buzzer to open the lock on the door.

"I'm glad to see you, sir. How is going out there?"

"Manageable." Ciaran replied as he pulled Kallen through the open door. Entering in to the intersection of the room, he looked around at the entrances to other wings, four more in total arranged in a pentagonal pattern. "Which wing is the furthest away from the fighting?"

The MP motioned to a wing to the right-front of where Ciaran was standing. "D-wing will be the best bet, sir."

"Right, lead the way." The young man said, nodding his head as he pulled Kallen along.

By now, the young girl had slowly began to get her head around the situation she was in, and began resisting against Ciaran's hands. The first time she pulled back, the man nearly lost his balance.

"What the hell?"

"Let me go! Let me go." The redhead yelled out as Ciaran pulled her back, keeping her from running off. With a small growl, the green-uniformed man yanked her arm forcefully, pulling her body as he planted his foot in her path, causing her to trip. Putting out his arm, Ciaran caught Kallen as she fell, before lifting her up on to his shoulder.

"Hey, put me down!" The girl cried, uncomfortably close to Ciaran's ear, making him wince.

"Not a chance." Ciaran replied, gritting his teeth as he walked forward with the teenage girl on his shoulder. Kallen tried kicking her legs in to him but, shifting the position of his arms, he caught her around her knees, limiting her strikes to minute little kicks.

Opening the door with a loud _buzz_ , the MP led the way for the duo as they walked down the corridor quickly.

"It'd be best if you put her in one of the further cells, sir." The guard said, gesturing to a series of cells further down the wing. "We're further in to the building so I'm sure that-"

The man's words were silenced quickly and abruptly as the well beside him exploded in an incandescent, red light, ending his life. The resulting burst of pressure knocked Ciaran backwards, sending him sprawled on to his back and sending Kallen flying off his shoulder, while bits of rock and concrete whipped around them.

Disorientated, with his vision swimming and ears ringing, the young man tried to push himself on to his feet, but could only manage to roll on to his side, making him wince in pain. Focusing through the haze of smoke and pain, Ciaran looked at the hole in the wall. In it, stood the same strange, red Knightmare frame that vaporized one of the Knightpolice, it's large metal claws withdrawing from the hole as the machine moved back. Behind him, or rather above him, he heard Kallen move on to her feet, which was a small mercy for the way his plan had turned.

The sound of leather crunching on rock drew his attention as he moved to look at the breach in the wall, propping himself up on to his elbow as he shook his head to clear his disorientation. There, backlit by the evening light streaming through the ragged hole in the wall, was Zero.

"Zero!" Kallen called out, staggering to her feet before rushing towards the masked terrorist. Pushing himself up, Ciaran quickly upholstered his pistol, centring the sights on the masked man. Exhaling slowly, he pressed his finger to the trigger...

And Kallen moved in to his line of sight, blocking his shot as she stood in front of Zero. Quickly, Ciaran removed his finger from the trigger, keeping the pistol trained on the duo of terrorists as they exited through the hole. Standing up, he kept his weapon aimed at the hole as he quickly moved towards it, keeping close to the wall as Darlton had told him to do.

Drawing up to the hole, he peered around the corner, and he ground his teeth in annoyance. Zero had climbed in to his Knightmare frame, a Glasgow-like unit, black like the others attacking the Britannian Knightmares, but with a large, red head with two golden horns on the front. Beside the machine, he saw Kallen, her bonds now cut, taking hold of the winch as it pulled the girl in to the machine.

Holstering his pistol harder than he probably should have, Ciaran turned away and began running to A-wing. Pressing the mic in his ear, the young man tried to contact Guilford.

"Lord Guilford! She's gone!"

"Slow down, Captain." The lord said, confusion in his voice. "Say that again."

"She is gone. Zero got her! I tried to move her to another wing and they jumped us. He... I fucked up, Guilford. I fucked up big time!" Anger was welling up inside him, anger at himself and the masked terrorist.

"Calm down, Ciaran." Lord Guilford said, his voice more calm than Ciaran felt. "Return to your Knightmare. We can still catch them before they leave the prison."

"Right, my lord." Ciaran retorted, his face turning in to a cruel snarl as he moved in to A-wing and towards his parked Gloucester. Luckily, the two Sutherlands still stood their ground. They were a little pockmarked with bullet-holes and, if the wrecked black Knightmare was any indication, they' done a good job at keeping his Knightmare safe.

"Friendly on your six." The young man called out over his radio, switching his headset to contact the Purists before climbing on to his Gloucester.

"How did it go, Captain?" The first of the pair asked, as Ciaran slid his cockpit housing back in to place.

"As well as you think." He replied as he fastened the his protective belts in to place before Lord Guilford's voice came through the internal speaker.

"This is Lord Guilford to all Britannian units. Zero has been sighted on the field. I repeat, Zero has been sighted on the field."

Keying his own speaker, Ciaran cut it. "It's the unit with the red head-crest. Looks like something worn by a samurai."

"Thank you, Captain. As he said, Zero's unit is marked by a red head-crest. Stop him by any means necessary. None of you will be reprimanded if you kill him."

Gritting his teeth, Ciaran pushed his Gloucester forward, the unit speeding past the two Sutherlands which quickly matched his speed as they advanced towards the exit of the prison. Clutching his control stick tightly, the young man steeled himself for what had to be done.

* * *

Rolling the Guren forward, C.C. couldn't actually help but smile at the fact that Kallen had been safe, watching Lelouch's Burai rush away from the prison with his precious cargo secured.

"This is Zero to all units: Kallen has been rescued. Execute withdrawal plan Delta."

A myriad chorus of acknowledgements came as the reply, the remaining Burais retreating from the smoke to join their leader. Their numbers had taken a beating, going down from seventeen of the black painted machines to thirteen. From what C.C. knew, Kent's and Asato's Burais had been destroyed but they had ejected to safety. But she had heard that one unit had been destroyed wholesale, the pilot not having a chance to eject.

It wasn't nice, but it happened.

Pushing the thought aside, C.C. focused her mind on the memory of the plan that Lelouch had laid out: Withdrawal plan Delta was simply not to head to the now-closed gate, but to head to the part of the wall directly in her line of sight.

Quickly looking behind her, she saw that the smoke had began to dissipate, the black pall flowing away in the breeze, revealing the extent of the Britannian defences: sixteen Sutherlands and six Knightpolice led by two Gloucesters which took point on the formation, rushing towards the Black Knights in an L-shaped formation, hoping to catch them from the rear and the flank.

"Damn it, they're on our tail. What do we do, Zero?" Tamaki's voice came through, grating on C.C.'s ears.

"Shut up, Tamaki. They won't be able to do anything to us." Came the reply from Inoue, even as her Burai turned and fired off a rifle-grenade at the Britannian pursuers. One of the Sutherlands dodged the shot, but another was too late, being caught in the leg by the explosive, tumbling to the ground as it's leg was blown from under it.

"Enemies on the right!" One of the new recruits called out from ahead of the Guren, turning to fire his Burai's rifle. Looking to the side, C.C. saw that the second Britannian force was closer than she had expected them to be. And one of the Sutherlands was rushing forwards, firing it's large shoulder mounted, anti-Knightmare rocket launcher on the move. The shots were going wide, not hitting any of the Black Knights, but it was enough to disrupt the formation.

"C.C., take care of him!" Zero called out over the radio.

"Yeah, yeah." The green-haired woman replied, pushing the Guren forward to intercept the advancing Sutherland.

"Damn Elevens!" The Britannian pilot roared, throwing his rocker launcher away and pulling out his assault rifle before firing. "This is what you get for mocking the Purist Faction!"

The Guren slid in to the path of the Sutherland faster than the enemy pilot expected, the purple armoured machine not even getting a chance to fire off a shot before the large claws of the Guren ensnared the attacking machine's head.

"I don't really care." C.C. quipped before she activated the weapon built in to the large metal claws.

The Radiant Wave Surger it was called. She had absolutely no idea how it worked. Something to do with extreme heat or radiation or a combination of both. She had not used it on an enemy Knightmare before, but now, as she activated the button on her right control stick, she wished she hadn't.

As the gauge in her hand spun up in to the red, C.C. watched in rapt fascination as a cone of red and orange incandescent light sprung forth from the large claw, before the light seemed to spread throughout the body of the Sutherland. The most mortifying moment came when the armour of the Sutherland began to bubble and expand, it's ligaments locking up as it began to vibrate.

"C.C.! Move away. Quick!" Inoue's voice called out over the radio, C.C. following her orders a split second later as, rolling backwards, she watched as the Sutherland exploded, the whole of the machine disappearing in a catastrophic explosion. Before the smoke cleared, C.C. knew that nothing of the enemy remained and there was no chance of the pilot getting out in time.

A roar of anger broadcast through a Knightmare's loudspeakers was the only warning C.C. got before the tip of a bright gold lance appeared from the smoke of the destroyed Sutherland, the second of the pair of Gloucesters lunging through the smoke, attempting to skewer the Guren.

"You bastard!" The enemy pilot roared, as it swung his lance round in a vicious arc across it's chest, forcing C.C. to move backwards while the Gloucester advanced forward, bringing the lance above it's head before swinging it down in a brutal arc, smashing in to the ground as the Guren avoided the blow.

"Where the hell did this guy come from?" Tamaki called out, as he moved to try and flank the Gloucester.

"Tamaki, don't!" C.C. cautioned, but the warning came to late as the purple machine turned on the Burai, smashing the machine's head off with it's lance. Tamaki cursed as he ejected, the pilot block flying clean over the wall.

"You're not getting away!" The Gloucester's pilot yelled out, levelling it's rifle at the Guren and firing a long sustained burst at the red machine, forcing it to the roll away.

"Zero, if you've got a plan to get us out of here, get it other with!" The green-haired immortal called out over the radio.

No reply came from the masked terrorist, but the very earth shook as a large section of the wall directly in front of the Black Knights was punched through the wall, the stonework smashing in the ground around the black Burais.

"That'll do it." C.C. mused to herself as she moved to head to the exit. It looked like the explosion had stalled the enemy's advance, so that gave the Black Knights the window to exit through the hole. The Burais exited by pairs, Zero's and C.C.'s Knightmares covering the exit with their machine guns, C.C. counting off each Burai as they went through the hole.

"... and that makes fifteen. Zero, that's everyone." The immortal said.

"Look out, Zero!" Inoue's voice called out, catching C.C.'s attention before she turned to see what had distressed the girl. Directly in front of her, the Gloucester from before. It didn't rush at them. Instead it spread it's legs wide in front and behind itself, before taking up a position similar to a...

"You are kidding me?" The witch said to herself as the Gloucester threw the lance, the weapon flying straight towards Zero's Burai. Acting quickly, C.C. moved in to the way, holding out her large right arm directly in front of her before activating the Wave Surger. The bright red-orange light filled the air again as the lance seemed to hover in mid-air as it bubbled and expanded before exploding.

"C.C.! We are leaving!" Zero called out, as his Knightmare slipped through the hole, smoke filling the space before the Guren activated her own smoke screen and slipped through the hole.

Rolling through the mud and trees, it didn't take C.C. long to meet up with the rest of the Black Knights. Fifteen Burais remained, but with only one dead, she knew the group would consider it a success.

Rolling her red machine to a gentle roll, C.C. drew level with Lelouch's Burai, it's cockpit opened as Kallen, still wearing her white straitjacket was lowered to the floor and rushed to a waiting off-road truck, the Black Knights who had lost their Knightmares waiting inside the vehicle while it's pilot stood on the seat.

"C.C." Lelouch's voice, softer than the witch expected, caught her surprise. "Thank you. For saving my life."

Insider her cockpit, the green-haired immortal simply smiled as the young terrorist climbed back in to his cockpit as the Black Knights quickly sped away from the prison.

* * *

"What the hell?" A voice cried out over the radio, making Ciaran wince. He couldn't see the ID profile for the pilot, but he had to guess that it was one of the Purists.

"Stow it, soldier!" Lord Guilford said, reprimanding the pilot before the Knight began issuing orders for aircraft to be launched to follow the retreating Black Knights. "All Britannian units, fall back to the prison garage. This mission is over."

Running his hand through his hair, Ciaran let out a shuddering hiss that seemed to reverberate around the inside of the cockpit as he let himself fall back against the seat. Frustration boiled up inside him.

He had been so close!

Zero had been directly in his sight, and that throw had been perfect.

If only that strange, red Knightmare and that damn energy weapon hadn't gotten in the way.

"Shit happens, mate." Ciaran said to himself, shaking his head as he ordered his Gloucester to roll back to the main prison complex at a leisurely pace.

Weaving his way past a sizeable hunk of concrete, Ciaran's attention was drawn to a fallen Sutherland, it's right leg destroyed at the knee and it's cockpit block missing. Moving towards it, he noticed from it's colour scheme, standard purple armour with red pauldrons, that it belonged to the Purist faction that was attached to the mission. Looking through his main view-screen, he could see a woman, with dark skin and silver hair, wearing a personalized version of a pilot suit, sitting on top of the armour, her hands resting against her chins.

"Lady Villetta?" The young man called out over his loud-hailer as he rolled the Gloucester to a stop near the fallen machine.

"Captain Forsyth?" She called out, looking up at the purple machine.

"Aye, it's me. Hold on, my lady." He called out as he activated the cockpit, the back of the machine sliding out as he stood up, allowing the woman to see him clearly. Reaching down, he pressed the button to lower the climbing winch, hopping on to the foothold as it was lowered to the floor.

Reaching the floor, he jogged over to the woman as she stepped down from her perch off the fallen Sutherland. "Do you need any help, my lady?"

"What do you think?" Villetta snapped in reply, her face still the scowl it was from before. Her face softened though, letting out a sigh as she put a hand on her hip. "My apologies, captain."

Ciaran waved off her apology. "It's all right, my lady. What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I got hit by that rifle grenade. Still pissed off that I didn't dodge sooner." The woman said resignedly, which Ciaran nodded in reply to. Looking past her, he saw the ragged stump with dangling wires and shorn metal where the Sutherland's knee had been.

"Well, it's good to know you're alive." He said with a sincere smile. "Lord Guilford's issued the recall order. We're all heading to the prison garage. Care for a lift?"

The look Lady Villetta gave him almost made him laugh loudly, a look of sheer confusion.

"It's a long way to the prison's garage, and I kind of doubt that Lord Guilford would willingly wait for just one person before he wraps this whole thing up, so I was just being nice. Plus, I don't think the weather will be too kind to you either."

Looking up for the first time since the operation began, Ciaran, and Villetta following the young man's gaze, saw that the once blue sky had become grey and overcast. The clouds loomed low, threatening to burst with rain.

Flicking her eyes down to stare at the young man, Villetta was silent for a moment before she spoke. "Fine, I'll take your offer."

Bowing his head, Ciaran motioned for Villetta to follow him towards his Knightmare just as the first light drops of rain began to fall. The young man ascended the winch first, sending it back down as soon as he reached the top. Just as the silver-haired noblewoman reached the cockpit, the heavens opened, prompting Ciaran to shut the cockpit quickly along with forcing Villetta to squeeze herself as tightly as possible down to avoid getting her head squashed by the closing mechanism.

"Ow! Watch it." Ciaran called out as he found the woman's elbow digging incessantly in to his ribs, the result of the two occupants being forced in to a space that was built to accommodate only one.

"Well don't blame me. You're the one who offered me a lift." The woman retorted as she tried to reposition herself in to a more comfortable position, which resulted in more painful jabs as she fixed herself to sit on his knees. Luckily, their similar height worked for them, as they managed to sit comfortably (relatively speaking) together. Although it did result in Ciaran's only view being of the back of Villetta's head.

"I. Cannot see shit." The young man grumbled out, before quickly adding "No offence."

"Yeah, you may not have thought this through properly." The silver-haired woman said, turning her head to give him a sly glance before turning to face the main screen. "Don't worry. You drive and I'll navigate for you."

Ciaran could only nod in reply as be pushed the Gloucester forward slowly, drifting sideways at Villetta's command. It was slow going, due to the amount of rain that plastered the prison yard and the fact that Ciaran's only view was of the back of his passenger's head.

They had only travelled a maybe about fifty metres before Ciaran began chuckling to himself before laughing, turning his head to avoid getting Villetta's ponytail in his mouth.

"What's so funny?" She snapped, annoyance plain in her voice as the young man continued laughing.

"I am just so fucking glad that Nonette is not here to see this. She'd have a bloody aneurysm!" Ciaran replied, covering his eyes with one of his hands as he continued laughing.

"Nonette?" Villetta asked, turning bodily to look at him. "Nonette Enneagram? The Lady Knight of Nine?"

"The very same." Ciaran said with a nod, coming down from his laughing fit as Villetta turned her attention back to the front, confusion on her face, which Ciaran saw. "What? Surprised that a mongrel Briton like myself can be friends with a woman like the Knight of Nine?"

The woman could only keep silent.

"And there's the answer." Ciaran said, nodding his head.

Villetta's only reply was to call out a new direction. "Bare right, then go on for thirty-metres."

Following her order, Ciaran ordered his Gloucester to roll to the side before he continued talking.

"I can't really hold it against you, mind. It's something that's been ingrained in you since birth, so it's hard to go against that sort of thinking. Personally, I can't abide by it. Putting people down to big yourself just shows a weak ego in my mind."

"A wea-?" Villetta prepared to snap out, twisting at her waist, before the young man interrupted her.

"Eye's on the road!" Ciaran said, forcing his passenger to put her eyes forward before he continued talking. "I mean, you said it yourself. You were a common soldier before you met Jeremiah-"

" _Lord_ Jeremiah." Villetta growled out.

"I'm sorry. Lord Jeremiah. Anyway, just because you think you're better than someone, doesn't mean you are. And beating people down doesn't ensure they'll stay down. Beat a man too much, and soon he'll take a stand against you."

"Do you really believe that?" The silver-haired woman asked.

Leaning over her shoulder to see at the view-screens before them, Ciaran stopped the Gloucester and turned it to the side, focusing the central camera on the body of one of the fallen Knightmares of the Black Knights.

"I think that right there proves my point." Ciaran said solemnly, before making the machine move forward. Peering over Villetta's shoulder, he saw that the door to the garage wasn't too far away, so he set the Knightmare in to analogue walking, the heavy footfalls of the purple machine making the occupants jolt slightly with every step.

"I joined the Purebloods because I wanted to advance my station. Is that such a bad thing?" The noblewoman asked, catching Ciaran by surprise with her question, making him pause in thought before he shrugged.

"It's pragmatism at it's finest. You saw a way to pull yourself up, and you took it. I really can't say anything against it since I'm practically the same."

Villetta game him an confused look before he made the machine stop and turn on the spot, switching off the movement systems, then taking his hands off the control sticks and activating the cockpit.

"We're here. I suggest you join up with your lot as quickly as you can before Guilford starts the debriefing." Ciaran said as the cockpit block began to move back, Villetta quickly standing to stoop in the confined space of the Knightmare as the seat moved back from beneath her.

He hopped out of his seat, pausing to stretch out his back as his passenger pulled herself out of the machine, quickly making her way to the ladder down to the garage floor.

"Lady Villetta!" Ciaran called out, making the noblewoman pause as he walked over to the top of the ladder to look down at her. "If you think I dislike you, you're wrong. There's no sin in being born in the gutter, but just be careful of which hand is offered to pull you out of the gutter."

Villetta didn't say anything in reply as Ciaran made his way to the other side of the gangway and slid down the ladder quickly before setting off at a jog, picking his way around the engineers to exit the space.

* * *

The news of the attack on the prison was not revealed to the population of Area 11, Princess Cornelia instead having the news spin a tale about a military training exercise. Although, walking away from the Princess' office, Ciaran was sure that the news wouldn't fool the more inquisitive users of the internet.

Stretching his arms above his head, the young man, changed out of his pilot suit in to his street clothes, did his best to roll out a kink in his shoulder that he had developed near the tail-end of the mission.

"Ciaran! Wait a moment." Cornelia's voice made him stop, turning around and dropping his arms as he saw the purple-haired princess walking quickly towards him.

"Something wrong, Cornelia?" The young man asked, safe that he and the princess were the only ones in the immediate area, allowing him to use the Princess' name.

Drawing close to him, Ciaran saw that Cornelia had a soft look in her eyes, seeming to scrutinise him before she spoke.

"I just wanted to check up on you." The Princess said, her voice gentle and calm. "I know that you are meant to be on a holiday, but I couldn't ask Nonette or Dorothea to take part, and also Darlton doesn't serve under Guilford so-"

"Relax." Ciaran interrupted the Second Princess' speech by putting a hand on her shoulder and smiling. "I'm all right. I'm fine, really."

Cornelia seemed to study him for a few seconds before she smiled herself, turning her body sideways to playfully shoulder-bump him in the chest. "And there I go, getting all worried for nothing."

Taken slightly aback by the Princess having a huff, fake as it may be, Ciaran couldn't help but chuckle at the older woman before pulling her in to a sideways shrug.

"I have to say, I like seeing this caring side of you." Ciaran said with a smile as he pulled Cornelia closer. "Although you don't have to ask me if I'm all right every time you see me, okay?"

The Princess turned her head to fix him with a blank stare. "I've only asked twice."

"Fair point." Ciaran conceded, nodding his head. "But how about this: if I ever feel like crap, for whatever reason, you'll be the first one to find out. Deal?"

Cornelia seemed to think about it before nodding with a smile. "Deal."

Gently patting him on the chest, she drew herself out from his arm to walk in front of him. "Now come on. Euphie's got a big dinner planned for you, and we don't want to keep her waiting."

"Oh, not more food!" Ciaran groaned out loud, a smile on his face even as he said the words. In reply, Cornelia only laughed, the sound echoing down the corridor as the two made their way to the dining room.

* * *

 **AN: And with chapter 14, this is now officially the longest piece of fiction I've ever written. Although the fact it's an anime fan-fiction fills me with a bit of ambivalence. Still, it's all for you guys, so I'm happy.**

 **Again, thanks go to A.D Fields for helping me with this chapter.**

 **Now, if you guys say that Zero's plan is not really on par with the plans of his in the show... I don't know what to say. Zero's plans are so convoluted and I'm a bit too straight-minded for that sort of thing, so this is a bit of a struggle for me. Must have gone through four or five different ideas before I decided on the one in this chapter. And, aye, I could have probably gone in to a bit more detail on the plan, but... eh. I'll let you guys be the judge on whether it worked or not.**

 **And C.C. was hard to write! I mean it. I don't think I've done her real justice here to be honest. But again, you guys be the judge on that.**

 **Next chapter will most like, if not definitely, be the battle of Narita. So... hold on to your butts.**

 **As always: read, review, enjoy.**


	15. Chapter 15

The days following the skirmish at the prison went back in to something close to normality. Ciaran fell in to a haphazard routine, alternating between visits to the garage to train with Darlton, trips in to the settlement by himself or just generally lounging around the Viceroy's Palace. Well, to call it lounging would not be the right term for it, as he spent most of his time in the Palace's large library. travelling between Euphemia's and Cornelia's offices, chatting amicably with the two princesses, or training with Darlton in the garage.

It was midday, on a rather pleasant Thursday in mid July, that Ciaran, dressed in a modest black t-shirt and workout shorts, was in the palace's gym. Technically, it was the Viceroy's private gym, but Cornelia decided that the gym would be allowed to be used by her inner circle, along with the two visiting Knights of the Round.

"My brother only ever used the jacuzzi. Might as well make sure the rest of the equipment works." The Second Princess said, settling the matter.

Working on one of the elliptical machines, the young man felt the layer of sweat cover his body as he neared the end of his twenty minute workout on the machine. Looking at the large floor to ceiling mirror in front of him, Ciaran saw the room stretching back behind him, more than forty yards back and more than fifty yards to his sides. The majority of the space of the room was taken up by an oval-shaped running track, three lanes wide, while the rest of the space was filled by myriad of exercise devices: elliptical machines, treadmills, weight-sets, indoor rowing machines, punching bags. There were even a few old school medicine balls and the machines that looked like a power sander with an oversized belt.

Running down on his exercise, Ciaran reached up and took the bottle of energy drink from its holder before bringing the plastic to his lips and taking a quick swig. As he let the liquid slide down his throat, he heard the door to the gym open. At the sight of who was entering, the young man couldn't fight his hand going slack, the bottle slipping from his grasp to fall to the floor.

Entering through the door, the young man saw Lady Dorothea walking in to the gym. Instead of her more regal white outfit, the Lady Knight of Four was dressed in a more casual work outfit: a white and blue sleeveless sports top which showed off her bare midriff while a pair of black, three-quarter length shorts. Her outfit was completed by a pair of blue and white trainers on her feet and around her neck, she carried a pure white towel.

"Lady Dorothea!" He called out, leaning off the machine to grasp the bottle that had fallen on to the floor. At the sound of her name being called, Dorothea turned and smiled at the young man before walking towards him.

"Ciaran, hello." She said, amicably nodding her head as she came to stand near him. "I didn't know you were here."

"I've been here for the best part of an hour, my lady." Stepping off the elliptical machine and moving to stand near the Knight, Ciaran couldn't help but let his eyes roam over her body, although he did his best to do it inconspicuously and quickly. Now that he could see under her clothes, he saw that her arms and legs were discreetly muscled, while on her stomach he could clearly see defined abdominal muscles. Catching himself, he raised his eyes to look Dorothea in the eyes. He wasn't sure if she noted his wandering eyes, but if she did, she didn't let on.

"Yeah, it turns out that exercising a Knightmare really only works on the fingers and wrists. So I just came down here to tone myself up a bit." He said, trying to get the conversation going. Ciaran didn't want to brag, but he had admit that since coming to this world, he had certainly gotten fitter. His training with Darlton had made him become leaner, while his muscles in his arms and legs had gotten more defined. The end result wasn't anything to write home about, but he was happy.

A small, mirthful smile crept on to Dorothea's face though as she took in Ciaran's words. "You're not trying to match up with Andreas are you, Ciaran?"

Reeling back in shock, the young man began blustering before laughing at the mental image of himself with the scarred general's physique. "If I grew another foot, maybe. But I don't see it happening, my lady. Wait. Andreas?"

The smile fell from Dorothea's face to be replaced by a look of confusion. "Yes. That is his name. Didn't you know that?"

Thinking back on his meeting with the general where they introduced themselves on more cordial terms, Ciaran remembered that, indeed, the general's first name was Andreas. "He did say his name was Andreas when we first met, but I never heard anyone else call him that, so I just forgot about it."

Dorothea shrugged in reply as she began walking towards one of the treadmills. "I don't blame you for not remembering it. He doesn't really like people calling him by his first name. As far as I know, there's only two people he's fine with calling him by his first name."

"And who would they be, my lady?" Ciaran asked as he followed behind the woman, stopping in front of her selected machine as the Knight of Four climbed on to the treadmill.

"Princess Cornelia and myself."

The young man nodded in reply as Dorothea tapped a sequence on to the pad in front of her which started her on to a walk then a quick jog. Ciaran quickly turned away to avoid watching the woman working out. His throat felt unnaturally dry, so he took another swig from his bottle. As he swallowed the liquid, he remembered a thought that had been nagging at him for a while.

"Lady Dorothea." He turned to face the woman, who looked at him quizzically as she jogged on the spot. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course. What's on your mind?" Dorothea asked in reply as she slowed the treadmill and her pace down to a quick walk, at the same time as Ciaran leant forward to lean against the front of the machine.

"Why don't you and others give me... give me crap for not being Britannian?" He wasn't sure that what he said was proper considering the rank of the woman in front of him, but he couldn't think of what else to say to convey the message.

Dorothea pressed the button to stop the machine all together before she put her hands on the handles and leant forward slightly. Ciaran couldn't help but swallow at the stern look she gave him.

"Is this because of the Purists?" She asked flatly, to which Ciaran nodded. At the admission, Dorothea ran her hand through her hair and sighed in exasperation before she gave the young man a sympathetic look. "I don't agree with their ideas, to be honest. I will admit that we, Britannians I mean, can be a bit hard on others if they don't prove their worth. But if someone like you proves themselves, then I for one would gladly stand alongside them."

The dark-haired man nodded in understanding, taking another swig from his bottle as Dorothea continued speaking.

"Although if you think that I should give you grief for being British, not Britannian, then don't. As I said at Kitakyushu, Andreas thinks highly of you, as do the Princesses, Guilford and Nonette, so I do too."

The last part of her sentence was punctuated by Dorothea reaching forward and rubbing Ciaran's head softly, making the young man playfully swat her hand away as a smile came to his face.

"Hey, hey, hey. I'm not a dog, my lady." Smoothing down his hair, or trying to considering it's naturally curly state, Ciaran tried to fight the blush that came to his face. "But thank you. That makes me feel better."

"Oh, call me 'Dorothea', Ciaran. I call you by your first name, it's only fair you respond in kind." The Lady Knight of Four said as she pressed the pad in front of her to start the treadmill in to life. "Care to join me for a little run?"

Looking around at the clock placed on the wall, Ciaran shrugged. "Yeah, why not. Nothing wrong with a late lunch."

Shooting a quick smile at his companion, he climbed aboard an adjacent treadmill. After placing his bottle in it's holster, he punched in his preferred speed and angle and slowly began to jog.

* * *

Standing in the war-room in the Viceroy's Palace, Ciaran shifted slightly from foot to foot as he wore his deep maroon, royal guardsman's uniform again. It had only been a month, but he had already worn it enough times for it to become something close to a second skin, and being back in it after wearing plain clothes for a week took some getting used to.

All around him, the room bustled with activity as various staff officers and Royal Guardsmen stood in small groups, chatting to each other, about fifteen in all. They, along with Ciaran, had been told to come to the meeting room by Lord Guilford at Cornelia's orders.

"How are you feeling?" Guilford said, catching the young man by surprise as the bespectacled knight came towards him, a can of cola held in one hand while he held a cup of tea in the other, offering the former to Ciaran as he came nearer.

"Just getting back in to the flow of things, my lord." He said, taking the offered can and opening it. Bringing the drink up to his lips, he stole a glance around the room. A small smile came to his lips as he looked at the space from his vantage point against the side wall near the door: large with a round table in the middle. It was the same room that Ciaran first came to, only this time he hadn't been dragged in under armed guard. "I just remembered that this is the same room that I met you, Darlton and the Princess in."

"Yes. Indeed it is." Guilford agreed, looking around the room, making sure no-one else was capable of over-hearing their conversation. "That was an interesting day, no?"

Ciaran chuckled at the remark. "That's a mild way of putting it. I was certain I was close to wetting myself. Especially when I first saw Darlton."

Cornelia's Knight began chuckling at the image. "Dear lord, that would certainly have made that situation much more interesting."

The young man nodded his head as he took another drink from his can. The smile soon faded from his face as a thought crept in to his mind. "Lord Guilford, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Captain. What's on your mind?" The Knight replied, the joviality leaving his voice when he saw the look on Ciaran's face.

"What would have happened to me if the Princess didn't believe me?"

A contemplative look came to Guilford's face, before sighing and leaning against the wall next to Ciaran. "You know your little... meeting with the old members of Prince Clovis' royal guard?"

"Bloody hell. How could I forget?"

"Well," Guilford continued. "You would have been subjected to something like that. But several times worse. And longer. And Her Highness would have very likely participated too."

The colour drained from Ciaran's face at the mental image of Cornelia subjecting him to a torture worse than what he had been subjected to when he first arrived in Area 11.

"And... and would the Princess have...?" He let the rest of his question hang in the air as he looked at Guilford with fearful eyes.

"Enjoyed it? No, I don't think so. She's never been one to enjoy the act." Guilford took a drink from his own cup, looking at the centre of the room. Glancing to the side, the Knight saw the state of fear and shock that Ciaran was in, so he quickly decided to put the young man's mind at ease.

"If it's any consolation, Ciaran, I highly doubt that Her Highness wouldn't have believed what you'd have said. And then of course, there's General Darlton..."

"What do you mean?" Ciaran asked, snapping his head up to look at the Knight, a look of hope in his eyes.

"He's never told you what his reaction was to seeing what you went through?" When the young man shook his head 'no', Guilford let a soft smile come to his face. "I thought that Darlton was going to leap right through the window and beat those two men himself."

Surprise took over Ciaran's face. "He would seriously have done that?"

Guilford nodded. "Indeed. Plus, even if he was the only one of us three to have met you, I think you'd still find yourself in the position you're in now. He's never one to abandon someone in trouble. I'm certain he'd have taken you under his wing in some way or another."

The revelation brought a sense of confusion to Ciaran's mind. He knew that Darlton had cared for him in a way when he had arrived, but he had no idea to the extent at which Guilford hinted at. Taking another sip from his can, the young man's eyes opened wide as Cornelia's Knight continued speaking.

"Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he considered adopting you."

As the word 'adopting' left the older man's lips, Ciaran couldn't stop his cola from going down his windpipe instead of oesophagus, making him gag on the drink and nearly double over. At his action, Guilford quickly reached over and began patting him on the back, chuckling as he did so. The closest officers to the room looked at the duo in confusion before the sound of the opening door drew their attention as Princess Cornelia entered the room.

"Ah-ttention!" Darlton's deep baritone rolled out, making everyone in the room snap to attention, even Ciaran as he managed to wipe away the tears that come to his eyes from the last bits of his coughing fit. Moving away from his standing point, the young man moved around the groups of officers to get a better view of the large table in the centre of the room, Guilford walking beside him before leaving him as the Knight moved to stand near his Princess.

Standing behind the table, directly in front of the door, both Cornelia and Darlton stood in their customary outfits, the Princess' large white cloak nearly making her as tall as the scarred general. But it was the man standing near Darlton that drew Ciaran's attention: he was as tall as the other general, but thinner and older, with a round face, grey streaked hair and bright blue eyes. The man's uniform told Ciaran that he was a general, but he had never seen him before.

"Gentlemen," The Princess spoke up, all eyes falling on to her as she put her across her chest. "I have gathered you here all today because the time has come. We will put an end to the rebellion in Area 11 once and for all."

A charge of excitement when through the room at the news, while Cornelia continued speaking, unfazed by the joy her words caused. "Through our intelligence agents, we have finally ascertained the base of the Japanese Liberation Front, the last remnants of the now defunct Japanese military. General Darlton?"

Stepping forward, the large officer pressed a panel that Ciaran couldn't see and a large holographic display covered the top of the table. The light green, wire-frame of light shook for a few seconds as the image tried to load, before it revealed a topographical map of a mountain surrounded by several lower lying mountains and a small city at the base of the larger mountain.

"Narita." Darlton stated, resting his knuckles on the rim of the table as the officers assembled came closer to the table to get a better view of the display. "We've had suspicions for a while now that this is where the JLF have their base of operations for some time now, but we've been unable to verify those suspicions. Until now."

Pressing an unseen button, the largest of the mountains became tinged with red with a small wave radiating from the centre of the image. "Through thermal imaging and intelligence from on the ground, we have pin-pointed their base of operations to be the central mountain. We have little clue on the strength of the forces in the mountain, but we can assume that the mountain holds the entirety of the JLF's forces."

Another buzz of excitement went through the officers in the room, which Ciaran couldn't help but get caught up in as he clenched his fists, feeling his adrenaline rise.

"All of those gathered here have been chosen by myself and Her Highness because we feel that you are all capable of carrying out this mission. It is you men assembled here that will be with us when we finally deliver the killing blow to this rebellion and finally bring Area 11 in to the fold."

"Well said, General Darlton." Lord Guilford said with a smile.

The rest of the meeting went by quickly as the second officer, who Guilford informed Ciaran was General Orson Alex, general of the Sixteenth Armoured Division, took over the meeting. The plan would be a simple one: a total of six battalions, three made up of Knightmares, the rest of regular armour, would surround the Narita mountains. The Knightmares, under the personal command of Cornelia herself, would be used in the assault on the JLF, with support from two of the armoured battalions while the remaining battalion would act as a blocking force for anyone trying to assist the enemy from outside the encirclement. The operation, called Operation Burning Brand, would take place in three days, giving the Britannians enough time to covertly move everything in to place.

To Ciaran it sounded like a logical plan. But looking over the holographic map, his eyes fell on the nearby town at the foot of the mountains.

"General?" He asked, unsure of which of the two officers would answer, so he wasn't surprised when General Alex answered in reply.

"What's on your mind, Captain?" The man asked, crossing his arms across his chest, at which point Ciaran realised that the room had fallen silent, all eyes falling on him.

"Umm.. what's the procedure for dealing with the town at the base of the mountain, sir?" He gestured at the map, pointing at the small collection of rectangular blocks representing the buildings.

"Why should they be of concern?" A random officer from Ciaran's side snorted derisively, forcing the young man to glare at him as he turned his head to look at the officer.

"Well, I for one would very much prefer civilian casualties in a military operation to be kept to as low as... well, zero."

The officer opened his mouth, ready to reply angrily judging by the look on his face, before the baritone voice of General Darlton cut him off.

"Captain Forsyth's concern is correct. We should try to keep civilian casualties to a minimum, General Alex."

"What do you say, Princess?" The grey-haired general asked, turning to address the princess. Looking at her, Ciaran could see that she was in thought over the matter before answer the question.

"I say that we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Everyone is dismissed. Make what preparations need to be made then report to your designated units for further information."

With a quick twirl of her cape, Cornelia exited the room, with Guilford quickly walking past Ciaran, excusing himself, as he moved to catch up with the princess. Around him, the assembled officers either made to leave the room, huddle in to small groups or stand to study the still lit holographic display. The young captain didn't hang around though as he quickly exited the room, giving General Darlton, who was in a deep conversation with Alex, a wide berth before slipping out of the door.

Exiting in to the corridor, he quickly looked around the long expanse before catching sight of Cornelia's cloak disappearing around a corner, closely followed by Guilford. Picking up his pace to move at a jog, closing the distance between the three of them.

"Princess Cornelia!" He called out, getting the attention of both nobles as they turned to face him. Drawing close, Ciaran couldn't help but stop in his tracks as Cornelia turned to look at him with a sharp look in her eyes which made him swallow in trepidation. Standing stiffly, Ciaran bowed his head respectfully. "Your Highness."

"Walk with me, Captain." The Princess ordered simply before turning and continuing her walk down the corridor, Ciaran falling in to step beside her with Guilford bringing up the rear. Bright sunlight streamed through tall windows, almost creating a blinding glare from the white tile floors. The trio walked in silence for a while before Cornelia spoke up. "It definitely seems that Darlton is rubbing off on you, Ciaran."

Ciaran glanced over at the woman, confused by her words. "What do you mean, your highness?"

Turning her head slightly to give Ciaran a sidelong glance, Cornelia's lips curled upwards slightly. "Caring about whether or not civilians are caught in a military operation. It's very noble."

"What makes you think I got the idea from Darlton, princess?" The young captain replied, a half-smile on his face. "Long before I arrived here, I've held the view that the military should try it's best to avoid involving civilians."

"Even in asymmetrical situations like this?" Guilford asked, drawing Ciaran's attention.

"My views still stand, Lord Guilford. In my world, I'd read too many horror stories of civilians getting caught in the crossfire."

"Commendable." Cornelia said, nodding her head as she turned full to face Ciaran, stopping him and Guilford in their steps. "If a bit impractical at times. Trust me on this, Ciaran: no matter how many times a commander wishes to avoid civilian casualties, they will undoubtedly wind up hitting someone who was not supposed to be there."

The young man looked at Princess Cornelia, his blue-green eyes looking at her violet. He didn't say anything as he let her words sink.

"Then that's the fault of the commander."

Both Cornelia and Guilford's eyes opened wide at Ciaran's words.

"What do you mean, Ciaran?" The princess asked, her eyes narrowing at the young man who stared back at her unwaveringly.

"If a commander fights in an environment where civilian are likely to be, then that means the enemy has done it so that the civilians will be there."

"Are you saying we're simply walking in to these terrorist's plans?" Guilford asked, shocked and angry in equal measure. The Knight's eyes opened further in shock as Ciaran nodded.

"Do not think that I am calling you incompetent, your highness. I am pointing out that there are other ways to conduct counter-insurgency than just using brute force. There's more than one way to skin a cat, your highness."

Cornelia was silent as her angry visage morphed in to a thoughtful look, placing one of her hands under her chin. Likewise, Guilford's face softened as he looked from the princess to the young man in confusion.

Cornelia's face was a mask of scepticism as she looked at Ciaran. "Do you really believe there's a better way to go about this, then?"

He nodded his head. "I do."

The older woman fell silent, staring at him for several seconds before she spoke."You're on excused duty for the next few days until Darlton calls you, Ciaran. Come along, Guilford."

The young man's sight dropped to the floor as the Princess and her Knight left him standing in the corridor.

* * *

The music in the bar was low enough to not disturb conversation but high enough to hear. Not that Jeremiah paid any attention to the world outside of his glass of whiskey that was resting in his hand against the bar-top. He and Villetta had returned from meeting with the reporter, Diethard Reid. The man had been attached to Prince Clovis' media attaché. Which meant that the man had a certain insight in Area 11. One that he hoped to exploit.

"Can we really trust that man?" Villetta asked from beside him, drawing Jeremiah's attention. Looking to his side, he saw the silver-haired woman sitting on one of the tall stools. With the way one of her long legs was crossed over the other, Jeremiah knew that several pairs of eyes of the few male patrons that were in the officer's bar were on her. But he paid them no mind as he raised his glass to his lips and took a drink, letting the liquid pleasantly burn his throat on the way down.

"I don't like the man so I get what you mean, Villetta. But if you think your plan has much a chance of success as you think it does, then we need his support." The turquoise-haired nobleman replied, distaste in his voice, his gaze remaining fixed on the bar.

His dark-skinned companion nodded her head, raising her Martini glass to take a sip of her drink, before staring directly ahead at the reflection of herself in the mirror behind the bar. From the corner of Jeremiah's eyes, he saw the bartender walk past him as the man approached another patron. Unthinkingly, Jeremiah tuned in to the conversation the bartender was having with the new arrival.

"Not seen you in here before, captain. What can I get you?"

"Got any cider?"

"Anything in particular?"

"What ever you recommend will be fine."

"Coming right up, sir."

One of Jeremiah's eyebrow raised slightly as his brain processed the voice he had heard. The second man's voice was familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place it. Looking up from his glass, he turned his head to look at the end of the bar. Sitting there was a young man dressed in a Royal Guardsmen uniform, with curly, dark brown hair, a few days worth of stubble and a small scar on his right cheek.

"Hello again." Captain Forsyth said amicably, waving one of his hands slightly.

Jeremiah just stared at him unblinkingly for a few seconds while beside him, Villetta turned her head at the voice. If he had turned to look, Jeremiah would have seen a small smile come to her lips at the sight of the young Briton.

"Captain Forsyth. What a surprise to see you here." The noblewoman said, shifting forward slightly to get a better view of the young man. "What are you doing here, if I might ask?"

"The princess put me on excused duty of the next few days." The young man gestured with his hands at the area around him. "So I'm just sitting around, waiting for the call from General Darlton."

Jeremiah and Villetta nodded their heads at Captain Forsyth's words. They had been told that they and the rest of the Purists would be posted to the operation, but had yet to be told to which commander and unit they would be posted to. He knew it was for security purposes, but Jeremiah had a nagging suspicion that this was just another attempt to slight him and the Purists.

The bartender soon returned with the young man's drink, taking the bottle cap off and placing it in front of him, which he accepted readily, taking a swig from the bottle.

"So what have you two been up to since last I saw you?" The young man asked, putting his bottle down on it's coaster.

Jeremiah was unsure about whether or not the captain should be told about his and Villetta's plan. So he decided to play it save.

"Villetta and I have been looking for a way to get back in the Viceroy's good graces."

"You think you have a plan to catch Zero?" The captain asked, taken aback by the nobleman's claim, which annoyed Jeremiah greatly.

"Yes, we do, captain. And I appreciate you not making sound like I'm a poodle that's learned to use the toilet." The blue-haired man replied angrily, turning his head to look away from the younger man, while beside him, Villetta simply shook her head at her companions outburst.

The sound of a stool being scraped back accompanied by a bottle being placed on the bar-top drew Jeremiah's attention as, turning, he came face to face with Captain Forsyth's face. Where once was a genial and friendly face, the young man's face was now stony and stern.

"You really think you have a way to find Zero?" The young man asked.

"We think we do, Captain." Villetta responded, stepping off her stool to stand near Jeremiah.

"Then why haven't you told the Viceroy? Or General Darlton?" Captain Forsyth asked, his eyes going from Villetta then back to Jeremiah.

"Because..." Villetta quickly butt in before she trailed off in to silence as she and Jeremiah suddenly became unsure of what to say. It was true that the plan was meant to boost their position with the Viceroy. But then why hadn't they told her about it?

A loud sigh from the young captain drew their attention as the man took another swig from his bottle, loudly smacking his lips as he swallowed the liquid. He looked at the mouth of the neck before he turned his eyes to look at the pair, a slightly sympathetic look in his eyes.

"How likely do you think you're plan will succeed?" Captain Forsyth asked, his eyes flitting from nobleman to noblewoman.

"I'd say about eighty, eighty-five percent." Villetta answered, looking down at the floor in shame, which Jeremiah agreed with.

"So highly likely to succeed, but also likely to fail." The captain said, nodding his head in understanding.

Jeremiah opened his mouth to protect his and Villetta's plan, but what Captain Forsyth did next took him by surprise. The young man climbed off his stool, taking a final swig from his bottle as he did so. He wasn't truly sure, but Jeremiah thought he could faintly see the young man sway gently as he stood upright.

"If you can write out your plan in detail, I'll help you submit it to the Viceroy." Gone was the stern visage and it was replaced with the same friendly look the young man wore when he came in to the bar.

Jeremiah's eyes opened in surprise as Villetta spoke, surprise in her voice. "You'd do that?"

Captain Forsyth shrugged at the question. "Why not? The sooner we catch that bastard, the sooner we can get on with our lives, no?"

"I'll drink to that." Jeremiah said happily, raising his glass, Villetta copying his action. Even though his bottle was empty, the young man raised his bottle in salute as the two nobles took a swift swig from their glasses.

Putting his glass down, Jeremiah stood up and quickly clasped the young man's hand.

"Thank you, Captain." The tall nobleman said as he shook the hand vigorously, to which the young man waved a hand in front of him, chuckling as he did so.

"Please, it was nothing. And call me Ciaran, for God's sake." The dark-haired man said with a smile.

"Are you drunk?" Villetta asked, giving a sceptical look at the young man.

"I may not be able to hold my alcohol as well I like to believe." Ciaran admitted, before his eyes opened wide in slight fear. "For all that is holy, please do not tell Nonette."

Jeremiah nodded in understanding, having heard some of the tales revolving around the champagne-haired Knight of the Round. In response, Jeremiah motioned for the bartender again while he, Ciaran and Villetta took their seats.

"What will it be, my lord?" The bartender asked as he drew level with the seated nobleman.

"Another round of mine and Lady Villetta's drinks and... Ciaran, are you okay with another cider?"

"As long as you're willing to help me to my room later, then yes. If not, then just a cola will do."

"And a large cola." Jeremiah said quickly, making his companions chuckle as the two took their seats.

* * *

The call to start the operation came two days later, Darlton personally rousing Ciaran from his sleep to bring him to the war-room. There, the officers in charge of the mission were given their roles in the mission: who would be assigned to where, who would be under the command of whom, and so forth. It was too surprising to the young man that he would be assigned to be under Darlton's command.

What did surprise was that, partway through the meeting, Ciaran was pulled aside by Cornelia herself. The older woman didn't take hold of his arm to make him move, only motioning with her head to follow her after she told Darlton to carry on with the rest of the meeting.

Standing in the hallway, Cornelia could see that he was uncomfortable from the silence surrounding the pair.

"Are you feeling comfortable about this mission, Ciaran?" The Second Princess asked, looking at her companion in the eyes.

"I'm ready, Cornelia." Ciaran said with a nod of his head.

"Are you sure?"

Ciaran nodded as reply, making Cornelia sigh gently in response before letting a sad smile come to her face. "Ciaran, I want to apologise about my attitude a few days ago. When you broached the idea of going about dealing with the terrorists here in a different manner, I... I'm sorry. You must understand that I have been doing this longer than you have and I have gotten slightly stuck in my ways."

"No, it's all right, Cornelia. I fully understand." The young man replied, nodding his head in sympathy.

"No, it's not, Ciaran." The Second Princess said, shaking her head as she moved to lean against the wall. Even through her cloak and gloves, she could feel the coldness of the marble on her skin. "Remember when I asked you, at Lake Kawaguchi, if you knew anything from your world? Well, I meant it when I was asking for your help. You have knowledge on these subjects that Darlton, Guilford, myself, almost anyone in Britannia does not possess. Your position as a Captain means that you can put forward those ideas and you can freely talk to myself, Darlton or Guilford about your ideas."

Cornelia watched as Ciaran crossed his arms across his chest, looking as though a thought was crossing his mind.

"Have an idea?" She asked as the young man put a finger against his chin.

"Not for this particular operation. But it's something that might work in the future."

"Care to explain it?" Cornelia asked, hopefulness in her voice, which quickly faded as Ciaran shook his head.

"Not in the time we have, I'm afraid. Plus, I only know the bare basics of the plan."

"As good an outline as any." Cornelia said, smiling. "After we finish with the JLF, I want you write out what you know about the plan."

"Understood, Princess." Ciaran replied, as he heard the door to the war-room open, putting his hands behind his back as Darlton and Guilford entered in to the corridor, the princess not having told the two where she was going. The pair of older men looked at each quizzically as Cornelia pushed herself off the wall and walked past them in to the room.

As she entered the room, Cornelia's eyes scanned the room, taking in all the people inside: there were eight other officers, excluding Ciaran and Darlton, all clustered around the holographic table in the centre of the room, with General Alex describing the operation's finer details. Lifting his head, the older General made to speak but the princess shushed him with a small wave of her hand as she moved around the room.

Moving past the table, Cornelia saw her target. Euphemia talking with the two Knights of the Round. Her younger sister was wearing a smart white and pink outfit; a conservative looking knee-length white skirt with a white long sleeved top, over which was worn a pink corset-cum-front-less-skirt combo. The outfit was completed by a large, open top hat through which Euphemia had threaded her long pink hair through before letting it fall over her back in a pony-tail.

"Hey, Nellie!" Nonnette chirped happily, making Cornelia roll her eyes.

"Hello, Nonette. Euphemia, can I talk to you in private, please?"

Euphemia cocked her head slightly. "Why can't we talk here?"

Neither Dorothea or Nonnette said anything, but the grin on the champagne-haired woman's face made Cornelia question the idea. But there was nothing wrong, as the Second Princess saw, in talking about the problem in the open.

"All right then. Euphemia. As the Sub-Viceroy, and my younger sister, I am not comfortable with this course of action."

"But why? You are the Viceroy and the Second Princess, so why are you allowed to lead from the front while I am not allowed to oversee the operation from the rear?"

"Because she's worried about you, Euphie." Nonette answered for her, the Knight of Nine's cheerful tone becoming more morose as she spoke. "She's been that way ever since... well, you know."

While to any other person, the sad tone in the almost perpetually upbeat Nonette's voice would have been cause for concern. But to those who knew how close the woman had been to the late Empress Marianne, it was simply Nonette being Nonette: upfront and truthful as always.

"Your older sister is right though, Euphemia." Dorothea said, her voice drawing the women's attention. "You are placing yourself at unnecessary risk by taking part in this operation."

Cornelia smiled at the Knight of Four's clinical tone. Out of all the Knights of the Round, she got on well with Dorothea. They were alike in many respects: loyal, brave, hard-working. She understood Cornelia's concerns from a military standpoint and would be a useful ally. But there was one thing Cornelia knew the Knight was not prepared for.

"Well, I don't care. I'm still coming." Euphemia said, crossing her arms across her chest and scowling.

The move caught Dorothea by surprise, her eyes widening in shock, while Nonette snickered in to a closed fist. Cornelia's only response however was to put her hand to her head.

"Euphemia..." She sighed out as her sister continued speaking.

"If you're that worried about my safety, just have someone to guard me. What about Ciaran?"

"He can't. Captain Forsyth has been put in charge of a reserve combat unit under Darlton's command. He'd be too far forward to give you support."

"Then about Nonette and Dorothea?" The pink princess said, gesturing to the two older women beside her. "They are Knights of the Round, are they not?"

Cornelia opened her mouth to protest, before stopping as she closed her mouth to think. Euphemia was right: they were Knights of the Round, that was true. And as Knights of the Round, they were duty-bound to protect the Emperor and his children.

And with Ciaran serving on the front-line, Cornelia couldn't think of anyone better to protect Euphemia. She didn't like doing it often, but for now, she would relent to her sibling's request.

"Okay, Euphemia. You can accompany us." Euphemia's face lit up with glee before Cornelia cut her off by putting up a finger. "But I have some provisions. Firstly, you are to be in command of the medical forces, and the medical forces only. Secondly, you are to remain in the G-1 at all times and to be with either Nonette or Dorothea at all times. Understand?"

Euphemia didn't say anything in return, only to nod her head enthusiastically by way of reply.

Satisfied that Euphemia's safety was settled, Cornelia turned to face the table in the centre of the room, her violet eyes falling on the form of General Alex.

"General Alex?" The Princess called out, making the elder man turn to face her. "What's the status on our units in the area?"

"The forward OP has been set up and the scouts have been sent in to the area to ascertain the numbers we're facing and if any civilians are present."

Cornelia nodded her head. "Very good, General. Darlton, be prepared to move out within the hour."

At her command, General Alex and Darlton began began directing the other officers to leave the room and report to their units. Through all the commotion, out of the corner of her eye, the Second Princess saw the Knight of Four approach her.

"Something on your mind, Dorothea?" She asked the dark-skinned woman.

"Your Highness, if Nonette and I are to be protecting Princess Euphemia, then I'm wondering if we're able to take our Knightmares on this operation."

Cornelia was silent for a few seconds before she answered her request. "I have no problem with you two taking your Knightmares. But as I said: you two will be protecting Euphemia in the G-1. If you need to move, you'll move on my orders. Is that understood?"

Dorothea nodded. "Understood, your Highness."

As Cornelia watch the Knight of Four move away, she saw Ciaran talking to Darlton. She couldn't hear what was being said, but the young man seemed to be optimistic about it. He must have caught her out of the corner of his eyes as, waiting for Darlton to leave, Ciaran turned and flashed Cornelia a smile and a quick thumbs up.

Cornelia couldn't help but return the gesture.

* * *

The late morning sun was beginning to climb in to the sky and, from his position on the eastern slope of the Narita mountain, Joseph Fenette felt the skin on the back of neck begin to prickle as the first drops of sweat began to trickle down.

The tall, middle-aged, brown-haired father of one stood with a group of six people, all dressed in baby-blue jumpsuits, the type worn by geological survey teams in the Britannian Empire as they stood clustered around a few electronic devices stuck in to the ground. Or rather, the ones worn by geological survey teams of the Imperial University of Lancaster.

Well, there was a half-truth to that. The six members of his team were made of undergraduates from the university, who were hear under the pretence that they were looking for a undiscovered vein of sakuradite in the mountains. Joseph, who actually was a professor of geology, was here with his assistant, Trevor were here for roundabout the same reason, but it was to find a way for the Code R research facility to tap in to the sakuradite in the mountain as an off-the-grid energy source.

Bringing his gloved hand to wipe off the sweat on his beck, Joseph took the time to remove his safety helmet too, as Trevor came towards him. Trevor was a full decade younger than Joseph, thirty-five to his forty-five. He was the same height, but with a slightly thinner build and head of dirty-blonde hair with green eyes and a pencil-thin moustache which didn't suit him at all.

As his assistant drew closer, Joseph saw that Trevor's eyes were flitting between himself and the mountain top.

"Something wrong?" The dark-haired professor asked as his assistant came to stand in front of him.

"I don't like it." Trevor replied after a few seconds of staring at the mountain, dropping his tone so the others couldn't hear him. "We're standing practically on top of the JLF's base."

"Trevor..." Joseph started, trying to calm the man's fears before he was interrupted.

"And surely you've heard the rumours about Princess Cornelia's plans to attack here. And our operation is sitting in the town at the bottom of this mountain. So don't tell me to be calm, because I don't see a reason to be bloody calm!" The entire sentence was practically hissed out, stopping the undergrads from hearing him. Which was an impressive feat from a man who several seconds before been close to panicking.

Joseph nodded his head at his companions concern. The new base for Code R had been chosen because of the belief that being near to the well-known, but somehow still undiscovered, base of the JLF by the higher-ups would mean that no-one would come snooping around.

But of course, they didn't count of the will of the Second Princess of Britannia.

"Doctor Fenette!" One of the undergrads, a young blonde woman, called out. "We've taken the necessary readings, and we have got a vein of sakuradite here."

Joseph put his helmet back on his head before clapping his hands together.

"Excellent!" He called out as he made his way down the slope towards the group. "And with that, that makes us five for six. So I think we can call it a day then. Everyone agree?"

A chorus of agreements told him the answer as he told the group to begin dismantling the equipment. Turning around, Joseph locked his gaze with Trevor as he shot him a look that simply said, "See? Nothing to worry about."

"Ugh. Doctor Fenette?" A bespectacled young man said, leaning over a small computer display hooked up to a spike embedded in the ground. "I'm seeing something weird here."

"What is it?" Joseph asked, turning around to begin walking towards the young man. He stopped dead in his tracks however as several forms burst out of the foliage around them.

Five rifle armed men, dressed in dark green fatigues and the grey body-armour of the Britannian army, emerged quickly from the surrounding area. All wore short-brimmed cloth hats on their heads and their faces were covered in brown and green camouflage paint.

"Everyone on the floor now!" One of the soldiers ordered, obviously the leader of this small band.

"Do as he says." Joseph said, calmly but sternly, as he proceeded to follow the command, moving to lie on the ground, putting his on the back of his head. Following his lead, all the members copied his movements as the soldiers went amongst them, patting each person down for concealed weapons.

Satisfied that the group was unarmed, the lead soldier moved to stand over Joseph. "Who are you people and what are you doing here?"

"We're members of geology department of the Imperial University of Lancaster, sir. We're here to try and fine untapped veins of sakuradite. I have a permit from the Viceroy's office if you want to check."

The man above him was silent before he spoke. "All right. Stand up."

Joseph removed his hands from his head before pushing himself off the floor. Opening one of the chest pockets on his jumpsuit, he reached inside and pulled out a folded sheet of paper which he quickly handed to the soldier before him. The armed man took it quickly, unfolding it before reading the paper. Joseph remembered what the line near the bottom of the paper said:

 _ **Signed by her Imperial Highness, Third Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire and Sub-Viceroy of Area 11,**_

 _ **Euphemia li Britannia**_

Underneath that would be the same name repeated in elegant, flowing script with a small seal of the Britannian Royal Family beside it.

Satisfied, the soldier folded up the paper and passed it back to Joseph. "All right, that checks out. Now, I suggest you tell your people to pack up their equipment and leave."

"What?" One of the undergrads called out, turning his head slightly to look at the standing pair to avoid getting a mouthful of dirt. "The professor just told you that we're allowed to be here."

"Not any more, lad." The officer replied coolly. "This place is going to turn in to a war-zone soon. Princess Cornelia has ordered all non-combatants out of the area. That means all of you."

The group began to murmur to each other angrily before Joseph shushed them up.

"We were finishing up anyway. I'm sure the sakuradite will still be here when we get back. You'll get no trouble from us, sir. We'll do as you say."

The soldier nodded as Joseph got his group to stand on their feet and dismantle the equipment. As he stood overseeing the business, Trevor came up beside him.

"I told you this wouldn't go well." He spoke quietly.

"Relax. Nothing bad is going to happen." Joseph replied, keeping his eyes on the group as the moved the equipment down the mountainside to their waiting vans, all the while being guarded by the soldiers, the pair following the group. As he cleared one of the small copse of trees at the base of the mountain, Joseph saw that there were two military Jeeps armed with a large machine gun idling near the duo of vans used by the university, two more soldiers sitting in the front of the jeeps.

"We'll escort you out of the area." The officer of the group said, addressing the pair, before moving to climb in to the first of the Jeep. Before he was able to move towards his van, Joseph felt Trevor take hold of his shoulder and spin him around, an angry look in his assistants face.

"If this place is going to become a war-zone, what are we going to do about the others?"

Turning his head slightly, Joseph could see the fringes of the town past the edges of the trees. The distance from where he was to the town was too far, and he was quite sure that the soldiers were under orders to escort any civilians out of the area, no questions asked. He didn't like it, but there was nothing he could do.

"You heard the man, Trevor. Get in to the van. We're leaving."

Joseph ignored the other man's look of disgust as he moved towards the first van, climbing inside the front passenger's seat. Beside him, he saw the glasses wearing undergrad grip fretfully at the wheel.

"Were they telling the truth, professor? Is this place going to become a battlefield?"

He didn't feel it himself, but nonetheless, Joseph shot the young man a warm smile as he patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, son. We'll be out of here before the shooting starts."

The sound of an engine pulling up alongside them as they saw the first Jeep move in front of them. From the front, the officer motioned for the vans to start following them.

"Better do as he says, lad." Joseph said as he fastened his seatbelt. "Don't want to get in to trouble."

At his words, the undergrad started the van's engine before pulling up behind the moving military vehicle. Looking in his windscreen mirror, Joseph saw the second van start up behind them and follow the first van down the road with the second Jeep bringing up the rear.

By his reckoning, they had gone perhaps about six miles away from the town of Narita when, looking through his window, Joseph's eyes opened in shock at what he saw: the large, dark purple form of one of the Britannian Army's mobile command centre.

"Holy shit..." The bespectacled undergrad muttered under his breath as he saw several bipedal machines, Knightmares, launch from the large vehicle while the sound of firing cannons preceded the sight of a squadron of tanks firing their long guns up at the mountain. Overhead, several dozen of aircraft disgorged numerous more Knightmares on to the mountainside.

"He wasn't joking..." Joseph said to himself as he saw a serious of explosions bloomed on the slopes of the mountain.

His mind went back to thoughts of the researchers in the town. There was no way that he could contact them from the van without arousing the suspicion of the other people in the vehicle and he certainly wasn't going to risk the lives of the undergrads since he doubted the soldiers would allow them to turn back.

Sighing softly, he rubbed his temple with the back of his hand, feeling sweat trickle down his skin. There was nothing he could do as the van rolled further down the highway, the armed Jeep in front pulling to the side of the road and the officer motioning for the group to continue driving.

* * *

On the bridge of the G-1, the noise level was surprisingly subdued for what Euphemia would call a major engagement. Although admittedly, the young princess hadn't really seen many battles first-hand. Only reading about them in her history books and hearing about them from the likes of Darlton and Cornelia. There was no rushing around and panicked calls from the officers present, not cries for aid from the soldiers in the battle.

Although as Euphemia thought on it, that might have just been in the movies.

The calm however didn't help the pink princess. She felt incredibly uneasy about the whole thing, and even the close present of Nonette and Dorothea couldn't calm the butterflies broiling in her stomach. Looking over the holographic map display in the table in front of her, she focused on several icons in particular: three deep purple icons advancing up the mountain, indicating her sister's machine, her Knight's and the scarred General's machines. Euphemia swallowed in trepidation as she watched Cornelia's machine move ahead of the main force on her own.

The Knight of Nine must have sensed her feelings because she placed a hand on Euphemia's shoulder, causing the teenager to look her in the face. Nonette's blue eyes seemed to glow as she looked at the young princess, smiling as she spoke.

"Don't worry about Nellie. She's done this more than once and she's always come out in one piece."

She didn't doubt the older woman's words, but Euphemia still felt uneasy. Pressing a button on the table, she pulled up a small display showing a small list of units held in reserve: a mixture of hospital and engineering units held at the rear, with the latter outnumbering the former by at least two-to-one, which Euphemia though to be understandable considering the amount of Knightmares and armoured vehicles taking part in the assault.

The screen suddenly shook, the lines of the mountain and the placement of the units shaking wildly, causing some of the other members of the Royal Guard to groan in exasperation.

"ECM. Didn't think the JLF would use that." One of them, a bearded man, said before catching the puzzled look on Euphemia's face. "Electronic Countermeasures, your Highness. It's meant to disrupt communications and the like."

"Although the JLF deployed it too late for it to have any major effect." Another one said.

A short burst of static from a small headset placed on the table top before a familiar voice came through. "Griffin One Actual to Command. Come in."

Picking up the headset, Dorothea put it to her ear as she spoke to Ciaran. "Griffin One Actual, Command reads you loud and clear. Go ahead, Ciaran."

"Just wanted to check that the radios still worked. Just had a burst of static on my screens."

"Enemy ECM. Nothing major to worry about." Dorothea replied, her eyes seeming to scan the table to try and locate the young Briton's unit.

"Copy that, my lady. Griffin One Actual, out."

Leaning over, Euphemia tried to locate her friend's unit, before spotting him partway between her position and the base of the mountain. The pink princess' eyes squinted in annoyance at seeing that Cornelia had put Ciaran's unit close enough to the G-1 but also close enough to put him in the perfect position to reinforce Darlton's units.

"What combat units do we have in reserve?" She asked, not taking her eyes of the screen.

"Strictly speaking, we only have two, your Highness. The Purists under the command of Captain Forsyth and the Special Corps with the Eleven pilot. General Alex's units are placed where they are to support both Princess Cornelia's advance as well as General Darlton's."

"The Special Corps?" Nonette asked, looking over the table.

"Yes. This unit right here." The bearded officer said, pointing to an icon far to the rear of the Britannian lines. "Units with Numbers are not allowed, as a rule, to operate Knightmares, but that unit is a particular exception."

"Indeed. And since the Second Prince is their patron, and he wants the unit to have as many chances at combat as possible, Princess Cornelia let them take the rearguard." The second guardsman said.

Euphemia nodded in understanding, although the revelation that Suzaku's unit was bringing up the rear did not help the butterflies in her stomach.

* * *

From his position, standing up in the cockpit of his Burai, Lelouch let his eyes scan over the assembled force of the Black Knights standing on the top of the mountain that served as the base for the Japanese Liberation Front. All around them, the air echoed with the din of combat.

Even with the minor loses from the operation to rescue Kallen, the number of Burais given to them by Kyoto still told the exiled Prince that his plan really might have a chance of succeeding. Lelouch had with him over fifty people on foot and twenty Burais.

Good numbers for his plan.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke to the terrorists a gathered before him.

"Our enemy... is Princess Cornelia herself. The fabled 'Witch of Britannia'. She is the best that Britannia has to offer."

An expectant silence fell over the crowd, all eyes, both human and mechanical, locked on him.

"All of you here believe in me, believe in what I can give you: the freedom of Japan. You have put your trust in me, and I promise that I will not fail you. Surrounded we may be, but I assure you that we will emerge triumphant. So I ask this to you now: Will you join me?"

Raising their arms in to the air, the Black Knights roared their answer, agreeing to join Zero's fight.

Underneath his mask, Lelouch couldn't help but let the snarl of a smile. Even if the plan to rescue Kallen had been a strategic choice, the fact she'd been rescued had done more for his popularity in the group, and he was aware of it. They were calling him a miracle worker, the man who would beat the Britannians. No-one had argued with his plan to engage Cornelia's forces, and no-one questioned his decision to fight the way they were.

A small part of his brain told him that he suffering from a serious ego trip, but he didn't care. He was loving every second of it.

"But are you sure this can work, Zero?" Inoue asked. Looking down, Lelouch saw that she had a rocket propelled grenade launcher slung across her back and a pair of binoculars around her neck.

"Do you doubt me, Inoue?" Lelouch asked, inclining his head to look at the older woman.

The indigo-haired woman jostled the launcher on her should slightly, getting it in to a better position before shaking her head. "I trust you. But I just don't feel comfortable with this plan, Zero."

The exiled Prince could understand her concern: having the enemy surround you before launching your attack did not really sound like something a sane person would do.

"There is no reward without risk, Inoue." Zero replied. "If we are to accomplish something remarkable, we must do something remarkable."

'Although I think the line between remarkable and stupid might be a blurred here.' Lelouch thought to himself, before he set his eyes on the red Guren, the red-haired pilot standing up for all to see.

"Besides," He called out, gesturing to the crimson and orange machine. "We have our secret weapon. Kallen? Are you ready?"

If the teenage, half-Japanese girl hadn't been listening before, he had her attention now as she stood nearly ramrod straight, enough to put a professional soldier to shame.

"Yes, Zero. I am!" She called out, the fire in her eyes evident for all to see.

Sweeping his arms wide, Zero gestured widely to the various, large probes he had the Black Knights insert in to the ground. "Our plan will be simple: Kallen will use penetrating electrode three to disable the enemy forces. When she does, Cornelia will be cut off, at which point we will advance on mass to point three. Remember: we are to capture Cornelia only. Anyone else who gets in our way is to be swept aside."

Various confirmations came from the assembled group, the soldiers on foot rushing to their designated positions while the pilots of the Burais readied their machines. Climbing in to his own cockpit, Lelouch activated the main screen in his Burai, the screen flickering to life to show him Kallen climbing in the Guren's cockpit. He knew that the Britannians were already aware of the Guren's capabilities, but he also knew that they didn't know about Kallen's abilities as a pilot.

Ohgi's voice came through the radio, catching Lelouch unawares. "Zero, Are you sure about the JLF?"

The masked terrorist chuckled slightly. "Don't worry about them, Ohgi. Just focus on the mission."

"Copy that, Zero." Came the reply.

Lelouch couldn't fight the smile that came to his face as he moved his Burai in to position. 'Revolutions are so easy.' He thought to himself. 'Just tell them what they want to hear, and you've got them.'

"Zero, I'm in position." Kallen said. Looking through his screen, Lelouch saw that the red machine was manoeuvred to stand near one of the electrodes.

"All right, Kallen." Lelouch replied, before taking a deep breath. This was it. His moment of victory. "Be ready to begin on my mark."

* * *

Resting his elbows on the top of his Gloucester's cockpit, Ciaran shifted the focus on his binoculars to try and follow the combat going on on the mountainside before him. He knew that using the Factsphere on his unit would make it easier, but he didn't want to drain the machine's energy filler unnecessarily.

From what he could see, Darlton's battalion, the scarred general's Gloucester leading the charge, were converging on a single location just hidden by a copse of trees, but from the amount of outgoing and ingoing fire, the young man guessed that it was an important location.

"Looks like Darlton's units are taking some heavy fire." He heard Villetta say, the silver-haired woman watching the same scene he was, except without the aid of the binoculars.

Besides the young captain's Gloucester, seven light purple Sutherlands with red pauldrons of the Purist Faction stood at attention behind the rear combat line of the Britannian main force. Their position, while optimal to watch the display of military power, did not allow the unit to take part in the fighting.

Which didn't overly bother Ciaran, but it did cause the ire to rise among the rest of the Purists. Even though he knew that Kewell and Jeremiah didn't get along, the young man was already sick and tired of their whining.

"Look!" One of the Purists called out, drawing everyone's attention. Looking through his binoculars, Ciaran tried to find the reason for the outburst. As luck would have it, it had been the exact area where he had been looking at before. Above the trees, he watched as a bright green flare shot up in to the sky before exploding in a green ball.

Pushing himself up in to a standing position, grimacing slightly at the ache in his back, Ciaran smiled as Darlton's voice came through the radio. "Attention all units: we have found the entrance to the JLF's base. I repeat: we have found it."

"Fucking ay." Ciaran said, turning to smile at the silver-haired woman, standing in her Knightmare's cockpit. "He's got it."

"He's found it?" Jeremiah called out from his left, turning to look at the young man in shock, his eyes opening wide. "Did the General give us the command to move forward?"

The young man shook his head, which cause the nobleman's face to morph in to a snarl of anger.

"No!" The turquoise-haired nobleman roared, slamming his fists on to the top of his Sutherland, the _bang_ travelling all the way to Ciaran's ears, taking him by surprise. "No, no, no. How can they do this me?"

Ciaran had zero clue what Jeremiah was talking about, looking at Villetta in confusion.

"It's because Orange-boy is here, that's why." Kewell growled out, catching Ciaran's attention as he turned to look at the man standing at his right. "If it wasn't because of him, we'd all be on the front-lines where we belong."

"I'm telling you, it was Zero!" Jeremiah called out, his voice becoming both angry and upset in equal measure at the blame laid on him.

Personally, Ciaran wasn't sure what to make of the claim. He had heard about the 'Orange Incident' from Guilford, about how, even though Jeremiah had Zero in his sights and was ready to capture him then and there, only for the man to suddenly to give the order for Zero to be allowed to escape.

He wasn't really sure what to believe, but since the turquoise-haired nobleman repeatedly stated that he had no memory of letting the terrorist escape, he was inclined to believe the man's claims.

"I highly doubt that is the reason why we're here, my lord." Ciaran said to Kewell, attempting to placate the man. "Although I will admit that I am not fully privy to the machinations of high command."

"But surely you can ask us to be moved forward, Captain?" Jeremiah asked, beginning to sound quite disturbed at the prospect of not fighting.

"Why? Do you just want another change to betray us again?" Kewell asked, a sneer on his face, causing a snarl to appear on Jeremiah's.

The petty arguing was beginning to grate on Ciaran's nerves, ever as he tried to shut out the voices of the older men surrounding him arguing like teenagers in a classroom. As they continued speaking, the young man was certain he could feel a vein begin to throb on his forehead, hearing Kewell's voice cut through Jeremiah's sentence.

"Oh, you'd like us to believe it wa-"

He didn't mean it to happen, but Ciaran snapped.

"Will you two shut the fuck up?!" The young man roared, catching everyone by surprise. Villetta's mouth hung open in stunned awe as Ciaran's eyes snapped back and forth between her two compatriots, the Briton continuing with his tirade.

"Both of you, shut up and start acting like the proper fucking soldiers you claim to be! Ever since I have met you two, you two have done practically nothing but argue with each other and it is getting on my fucking nerves! You!" He pointed a finger at Jeremiah. "Shut up. And you." He shifted his hand to point at Kewell. "Seriously: Shut. The. Fuck up. That's a fucking order."

"How dare you...!" The hazel-haired nobleman began before being silenced by Ciaran.

"No! I've fucking had it with you. I have only ever known one other person who's voice annoys me more than anything else, and you are quickly beginning to replace him. If you want to have something to do, I can shit-kick back to the furthest rear echelon unit I can find, and I will be fucking glad to do it."

The young man fell in to silence, taking in ragged breaths as he tried to bring his anger under control.

"All of you claim to be one of the elite units in this army, but the only one I've seen taking that claim seriously is Lady Villetta. So unless you all start acting like soldiers, I'm positive that Princess will continue to have you relegated to rear echelon duty."

Ciaran wasn't sure that what he was saying was the truth, but if it got the group to be quiet then he didn't care. No reply was forthcoming from the pair of arguing nobles, only a hostile glare from Kewell and an ashamed silence from Jeremiah, so the young man turned his attention back to mountainside. Through his binoculars, he could see that the Britannian units had surrounded the claimed entrance to the mountain hideout.

A loud, low rumble filled the air, taking everyone by surprise, all present looking around them for the source of the noise. Looking up, Ciaran's eyes opened wide in shock at what he saw: a literal avalanche of mud and rock was cascading down the mountain. As it made it's way down, the landslide swept away Gloucesters, Sutherlands and Burais, Knightmares and armoured units alike en mass. He watched in horror Darlton's machine disappeared under a flurry of mud before emerging a bit further down the slope, using its slash harken to attach itself to a large rock before beginning to haul himself to safety.

Cornelia's voice called out over the radio. "This is Viceroy Cornelia to all Britannian units of Battalions Three and Four, I want a status report on the whereabouts of Generals Darlton and Alex. Respond immediately!"

"Princess, it's Captain Forsyth." Ciaran replied, remembering to use his rank over the open radio. "I've got Darlton's unit in my sights. He's taken a few casualties, but he appears to be all right."

"And General Alex?"

"No sign of him, your Highness." The young man replied, using his binoculars to scan the scenery for the other General's transport.

"Copy that, Captain. I want to stay where you are and protect the G-1, is that understood?"

"I understand, your Highness." Ciaran replied, looking through his binoculars across the landscape, trying to find the older woman's squad. "Princess, where are you? I can't see you from where I am standing."

"I'm all right, Captain. I'm on the south-east side of the mountain, on the other side of the landslide..."

"My lady, lookout!" Guilford's voice called out, before a muffled burst of gunfire sounded over the radio, quickly followed by a burst of static as Cornelia's radio went offline.

"Princess! Cornelia, come in!" Ciaran called frantically, before resetting his headpieces frequency to contact the G-1. "Princess Euphemia, come in. Cornelia's cut off-"

"Ciaran!" Euphemia called out, sounding very panicked. "I've just got a message over the radio. The Black Knights are heading right for Cornelia's unit!"

"What? Are you sure?" Ciaran asked, scanning the terrain for any sign of the enemy units mentioned.

"Yes. I can see them on the main display here, and they're heading right for her from two directions! You're the only unit able to reach her in time."

"But Princess, she ordered me to protect the G-" He began before Euphemia interrupted him mid-sentence.

"I've got Nonette and Dorothea here with me. Now go! I'll send the Lancelot to assist."

"Understood, Princess." Ciaran replied before switching off his headset.

"What's going on, Captain?" Villetta asked, looking at him with confusion.

"Cornelia's unit is cut off and the Black Knights are heading right for her." Came the sharp reply as the young man placed his binoculars in to a belt pouch, causing a gasp of surprise from the silver-haired woman and a collection of angry muttering from the other Purists.

"What? Zero is here?" Jeremiah called out, to which Ciaran nodded. "Finally! Revenge is mine!" The turquoise-haired man called out, before beginning to clamber in to his cockpit.

"Lord Jeremiah, wait!" Villetta called out, futilely holding her hand out to stop him as his Sutherland began to race forward on its landspinners.

"Lord Jeremiah, stop right there!" Ciaran called out over his mic as his cockpit block slid in to place. He levelled his machine's assault rifle at the nobleman's machine as it skidded to a halt.

"Captain! What are you doing?" Jeremiah asked, his voice shaking with near unbridled rage. "Zero is here. I can-"

"If you try and move without my orders one more time, I will gun you down where you stand." The Briton replied icily, meaning every word. "We have been given an order, so I expect you to listen to me."

"But, Captain -" Jeremiah tried to speak before he was cut off again.

"We don't have time to listen to you, my lord! Do you want to be taken seriously by the Viceroy again?" The Captain asked in reply.

"Yes, of course!"

"Then do as I say! Now, everyone: get in to your Knightmares. Now!"

Looking through his side screens, Ciaran watched as the Purists hesitated at his order. It wasn't to his surprise that Villetta was the first one to follow his order, the dark-skinned noblewoman climbing in to her machine's cockpit. Seconds after, the other nobles followed suit, climbing in to their machines.

Activating his mic, he set it to talk to all of them at once.

"All right, listen up. Princess Cornelia is cut off and in danger of being overrun. Jeremiah, you're taking the four units on my left and you're to go and reinforce Princess Cornelia's bodyguard. Go, now!"

"On it!" The older man roared, peeling his Sutherland away followed by the other Purist Knightmares, his voice showing his relish at the probability of getting in to combat.

"What about the rest of us, Captain?" Villetta's voice came through as her face appeared on the main view-screen. A look of confusion was on her face as Ciaran rolled the pads on the top of the control sticks around before pushing his Gloucester forward.

"You're coming with me. We're going to intercept the Black Knights as they come down the mountain." The young man said as his Knightmare rolled over a small hill and began climbing up the mountain. "If it is the Black Knights, then keep your eyes open for the red Knightmare. If you see it, give it a wide birth."

"Understood, Captain." Came the woman's reply. Checking his monitor, Ciaran saw that Villetta and the other Purists had fallen in to line behind him. Switching his mic to a different signal, he contacted the Special Corps and the Lancelot. "Suzaku, you moving out?"

"Yes, Captain." Came the reply for the Japanese teenager. "I'm moving up to join you and your unit."

"Negative on that, Suzaku. I want to you to go and link up with Cornelia's unit."

The teenager's reply was slightly distressed at the change of plan. "But, Captain, I-"

"Don't argue with me, mate! Just do as you're told." Ciaran snapped back.

Suzaku was silent for a moment before he spoke again. "Understood, sir. Good luck."

Ciaran didn't say anything in reply as he keyed off his mic and pushed his Gloucester forward, the sand panel equipped landspinners easily keeping the machine afloat on the mud. His eyes flicking to side, he looked at the display showing the location of his unit and the approaching Black Knights.

Five hundred metres and closing.

"Everyone spread in to a wedge. I'll be the tip!" He called over the mic. No reply came through to his ears, but he saw the four Sutherlands spread out to his sides.

Two hundred metres.

He leant his Gloucester forward and readied its lance.

One hundred metres.

Directly in front of him, Ciaran saw a slope angled forward, overlooking the path the Black Knights were travelling down. Pushing the machine's speed up, he raced ahead of the others, launching himself off the slope. To the extreme right of the main view-screen, he could see them: four black pseudo-Glasgows, one with a red head unit, and one red machine.

"Ura!" He roared as his machine sailed through the air, black cape trailing and twisting behind it as he turned the Gloucester to its side and slamming heavily on to the ground. Ciaran's Gloucester landed in a crouch, sliding sideways through the mud as the pilot keyed his external speaker, the quartet of Purist Sutherlands landing behind him.

"Hello, Zero."

Almost immediately, two of the black pseudo-Glasgows shot forward, ready to attack the Gloucester which raised itself to it's full height. Before they got within striking distance of Ciaran's machine, a burst of machine gun fire from the Purists sent them sprawling to the earth, exploding seconds after their cockpits ejected, rocketing in to the sky.

"Is that you, Orange Boy?" A voice called out from the machine with the red head as Ciaran readied his machine's lance, shifting his grip to the halfway point on the shaft and holding it horizontally behind him as he widened his stance, his sights firmly on the red-headed machine.

"If you mean Jeremiah, then you're sadly mistaken. My name is Ciaran Forsyth, Captain of Princess Cornelia's Royal Guard."

"So you're the man who chased me at Kitakyushu." The voice replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice which brought a small smile to Ciaran's face, which quickly fell as the terrorist continued speaking. "Looks like you're just another Britannian lapdog. How pitiful."

"I'm no-one's lapdog. And I'm not Britannian! I'm fucking British!" Ciaran roared as his Gloucester rushed forward, his lance held ready to skewer Zero's machine.

A loud crash of metal on metal filled the air as the red Knightmare lunged forward, battering aside Ciaran's lance with it's large right claw, forcing the purple machine backwards before retaking it's earlier stance.

"Hello again, you big red bastard." Ciaran growled out through his headpiece as his opponent took it's place opposite him before switching the frequency to talk to Villetta. "Villetta, I'm going to take on Red. I want you and the others to pull back and run interference against the other Black Knights."

"What are you talking-" The silver-haired woman tried to ask before she was interrupted.

"Cornelia's got enough back-up for her personal squad, but if they're cut off, we're finished. Red here is the Black Knight's ace. So I need to keep him tied down. Understand?"

Villetta was silent for several seconds before she replied, her voice taking on a stern tone. "Understood, Captain. Good luck to you."

The young captain didn't say anything in reply as he watched the four icons speed away, indicating the Purist Knightmares had left him on his own. But he didn't mind as he threw away his Knightmare's assault rifle and taking a two-handed grip on his lance, pointing the tip right at his opponent.

"So, you red bastard. Are we doing this or not?" He called out, a sneer on his face. Which quickly fell from his face when he heard the voice that replied.

"Don't underestimate me, you bastard!" A familiar female voice roared back, catching Ciaran by surprise.

"Kallen?" Ciaran asked, taken aback by the anger in the girl's voice.

"H-how do you...?" The teenage girl asked in reply. "You're the man from the prison!"

Ciaran let out a sigh. "So it has to be this way then. So be it."

Raising the lance so it's tip was aimed directly at the centre of the machine's torso, the young man readied the machine to rush forward. It didn't feel right in any sense of the word, but Ciaran knew he didn't have the choice as he watched the rest of the Black Knights slink away from the stand-off.

"Let's do this!" He called out before he charged forward.

* * *

A harsh beeping filled the inside of Cornelia's cockpit as she emptied the last round in her assault rifle's magazine before it was ejected. Scanning her inventory quickly, the Second Princess swore loudly to herself as she saw that she was out of spares.

"I need a fresh magazine!" She called out to her unit. Around her, the mixed unit of Sutherlands and Gloucesters that made up her praetorian guard for this engagement had taken cover behind the various rocks and trees, taking shelter as numerous missiles and projectiles flew around them from up the slope.

"I'm throwing one to you now, your Highness." A Sutherland pilot called out, the machine throwing a fresh magazine which Cornelia's Gloucester caught deftly before inserting it in to her weapon and continuing to fire up the slope. Through her display, she could see the shapes of the Black Knights' Knightmares holding their position on the ridge firing down on the Princess' unit.

"Damn these Elevens." Guilford said, firing his rifle in short, controlled bursts. The Knight's aim was spot on as always as his rounds penetrated the leg of one of the enemy machines, making it topped forward before a trio of rounds punched through the cockpit, killing the pilot and detonating the power source of the machine, sending a large fireball rise in to the sky. "Princess, we have to get out of here!"

"No, Guilford!" Cornelia retorted angrily, offended at the mere notion of retreating. "I will not retreat. Not now. Not in the face of this... scum!"

"Your Highness. We have contacts coming in from the right flank. Closing fast." Another pilot cut in.

"What's their IFF?" Guilford asked, wary of the incoming Knightmares, especially after what happened at Shinjuku and Saitama.

"They're the Purists, my lord!" The pilot replied, shocked by the turn of events. His words were true however as a quintet of Sutherlands with red pauldrons burst through the tree-line and came up behind Cornelia's guard, firing their weapons up the slope.

"Princess Cornelia!" The loud voice of Jeremiah Gottwald called out through his loudspeakers, firing a grenade rifle up at the enemy as he did so. "We are here to assist, your Highness."

"Margrave Jeremiah! What are you doing here?" Cornelia roared at the nobleman. "I ordered Captain Forsyth to remain where he was and protect the G-1!"

"The sub-viceroy noted that she had two Knights of the Round to protect her, and the Captain is leading the rest of the Purists to stall the Black Knights who were attempting to flank you."

"What?" Cornelia said, taken aback by the news. Moving her fingers quickly, she pressed a series of buttons on her control sticks that brought up a larger version of the tactical map. Scrolling quickly, she saw that Gottwald had been telling the truth as she saw a small blue icon moving erratically around a small square of the map, while a red icon copied it's movements.

Ciaran was obviously fighting another unit in a solo duel. Down from the fight, she saw several blue icons engaging an equal number of red icons.

Switching the frequency on her radio, she tried to contact the young man.

"Ciaran, what's going on?"

"Can't talk right now!" Came the reply, the sound of clashing metal on metal filtering through the radio. "Kind of fighting for my life here!"

"Answer me, Ciaran. What are you doing?" Cornelia asked sharply, although she couldn't help fight the concern in her voice.

"I've got the red unit from Nagano focused on me. If this thing gets to you, this whole situation goes FUBAR."

A retort died in Cornelia's throat as a large explosion rocked her Gloucester, showering her with mud and rock. A close call from a shoulder-fired rocket propelled grenade she guessed. Letting out a sigh, Cornelia resigned herself to the fact that her young friend would be without her assistance for a while.

"Don't go dying on me, Ciaran. Euphie will never forgive you, or me." The purple-haired princess said with a tone of sadness in her voice, even as around her the sound of gunfire increased in volume.

* * *

"Don't worry about that, Cornelia. I don't plan on dying here." Ciaran replied to the princess' order, switching off the radio as he circled the red Knightmare, his opponent copying his movements. He flinched as a small spark flew past his face from a wire that had been ruptured from an impact on the side of his hull.

Even from the inside of his cockpit, the young man had a feeling that his Gloucester had taken a fair few close calls from his opponent: his cape was torn from where Kallen's machine had tried to grapple him from behind, only for him to spin out of her grasp. She had managed to land a few blows against his shoulders and arms, buckling and shredding the armour in brutal scars. Although Ciaran took a bit of solace in the fact that the red machine in front of him was looking equally worse for wear.

"Had enough, Brit?" The teenage girl called out, her machine flexing it's large right hand, clacking it's claws menacingly. In reply, Ciaran brought up his lance before spinning it above his head and shifting it in to a two-handed grip similar to when he started the fight.

"I was about to ask you the same thing, lass. No chance that I could get you to give up?" Ciaran asked a little more cockily than he intended it to sound.

"Not a chance!" The younger girl roared out as she pushed her machine forward, her machines claws held open, ready to ensnare the Gloucester before her. Reacting quickly, Ciaran pushed his machine forward and to the side, bringing his lance up to try and skewer the opposing machines shoulder joint.

With little surprise, the red Knightmare jinked to the side, letting the lance slice through thin air before, after regaining her footing, surging forward to try and catch Ciaran in her grasp.

"Not a fucking chance!" Ciaran roared as he fired on the machine with the hull mounted machine gun. He watched as the rounds peppered the metallic arm, but the rounds had little effect outside of making the arm spasm from the impacts. He had to remember to talk to Derek about changing the calibre of the gun to something larger as he moved aside, letting the claw sail past him. Swinging his lance over his head, he brought it down sharply to try and hit the machine with brute-force.

The hit never landed though as, with a loud sound of metal impacting on metal, Ciaran found himself within the grasp of the large claws of the machine, stopping him from bringing his lance down on to his opponent.

"I never got to thank you, you know." He heard Kallen say, genuine remorse in her voice as Ciaran looked around the cockpit for way out of his current situation. "So I'm going to offer you the same choice your friend gave to me in Kitakyushu: surrender now, or I'll be forced to end your life."

Ciaran's hands shook with adrenaline as he thought the answer over. "What happens in I surrender?"

"I don't know really. You'll probably be used in a hostage exchange or something." The girl said, no small degree of uncertainty in her voice.

'Capture or death. Death or capture.' Ciaran said to himself, his eyes scanning the inside of his cockpit, looking for a way out of the situation he was in. As his eyes swept along his legs, he saw the two red panels that marked the ejection seat.

A smile came to his face as he released his grip on the control sticks and his fingers tightened around the panels. "Thank you for the offer, Kallen, but that sounds like a 'lose-lose' situation to me. So I'm going to have to pass."

"Your choice." The female pilot said darkly, before Ciaran felt the machine vibrate and the heat begin to rise sharply. In response, the Briton yanked back on the panels, activating the self-eject. He was thrown forward as the rockets ignited and sent the cockpit soaring in to the sky. He felt the pod shake slightly, probably the force of his Gloucester exploding, Ciaran reckoned., before his travel upwards was stopped by the parachute opening to slow his descent.

Villetta's voice came in to his ear, taking him surprise. "Captain, what happened? Why did you eject?"

"I was caught between a rock and a hard place, my lady." Ciaran replied, scratching at his forehead lightly. "Given the choice between surrendering or being killed, what would you choose?"

"Fair point." Over the noblewoman's voice, the young man could hear the sounds of sporadic gunfire, which told him that he should probably close the conversation quickly.

"I'm going to be out of the fight. You know your objective, so I'm trusting you to lead your squad. Good luck, Villetta."

"Good luck to you too, Ciaran. I'll see you when this is over." The woman said before the radio fell in to silence. He thought on contacting either Darlton or Cornelia, but he decided against it as they were probably caught up in their own problems.

With a loud thud, the cockpit collided with the ground, indicating that he had come to a stop on the ground. Letting out a grunt of annoyance, Ciaran settled in to his seat as best he could. He had a feeling that he would be there for a while.

* * *

The battle of the Narita mountains raged on for hours. Though the combined efforts of Ciaran and Villetta managed to slow the advance of the Black Knights, it was the unexpected arrival of reinforcements for the Japanese Liberation Front that marked the true turning of the tide for the battle. The Four Holy Swords, led by Lieutenant Colonel Kyoshiro Tohdoh, managed to break through the cordon set up around the combat zone before attacking Cornelia's unit from the rear.

The attack, carried out in specialized variants of Burais, was swift and brutal, with several Britannians falling to the large anti-Knightmare blades. The attack forced Cornelia to flee, leaving Lord Guilford and the rest of the unit to deal with the attackers.

Whether it was planned or not, the sudden attack played right in to Zero's hand as he sent the now freed up Kallen and her Guren to cut off Cornelia's Gloucester from her rendezvous point. Almost immediately, the duo engaged in a duel, each pilot skilfully attacking and countering the other. It was through the use of her Radiant Wave Surger, the use of which caused the destruction of Cornelia's lance and the arrival of Zero in his Burai which disabled the Gloucester, that Kallen managed to force the Second Princess on to the defensive.

Away from her personal duel, the Princess' forces weren't faring any better. Guilford and his forces found themselves forced in to a tighter and tighter corner due to the ferocity of the Four Holy Swords, while the remaining forces under Darlton's command were being hammered by the resurgent forces of the JLF in their mountain fortress, pushing the General's forces back down the mountain, even as the mountain shook with the after-effects of landslide. The disaster had virtually destroyed the Britannian forces at Narita, leaving only twenty percent of ground forces operational.

The fight, the battle and very possibly Britannian rule in Area 11 would have been finished were it not for the timely arrival of Suzaku and the Lancelot. The arrival of the white prototype Knightmare, provoking the ire of the masked terrorist, forced Kallen to change tactics, starting a titanic duel between the two prototype machines. Both machines were matched in speed and durability, but through sheer ferocity, Kallen proved the more capable of the pair, destroying one of the sand-panel equipped landspinners and one of the Lancelot's swords.

Acting quickly, Suzaku fired his VARIS, hoping the shot would disable or destroy the Guren. Using her new weapon, Kallen blocked the shot, however, the transferred force resulted in the Guren being thrown off a precipice, causing damage to the Radiant Wave Surger. Seeing his trump card virtually disappear and finding himself alone against Cornelia and the Lancelot, Zero ordered the Black Knights to retreat before fleeing from Imperial retribution. Giving chase, Suzaku quickly followed the retreating terrorist, although whether he caught up with him or not is unknown.

What is known however, were the casualties: the Britannians lost upwards of several hundred Knightmares, armoured vehicles and infantry all told, including General Alex, his personal transport being destroyed in an ambush laid by the Black Knights. Casualties for the JLF were estimated to be almost total, mainly from the destruction caused by the landslide engineered by Zero. Out of it all, the Black Knights could best be described as coming out unscathed, loosing only a small number of their Burais and a handful of their ground-forces.

A pyrrhic victory if there ever was one for Britannia.

* * *

Sitting in the opened cockpit, his feet resting on the open edges of the cockpit block, Ciaran tried his best to moisten his lips. The sun was now past it's zenith, bathing the earth in it's heat. The young man cursed the fact that he hadn't brought a canteen with him as he felt his throat dry up. He forced the discomfort aside as he tried to contact someone through his headset again. The noise of gunfire had receded in to the distance until Ciaran was only surrounded by unnatural stillness.

"This if Griffin One Actual to any Britannian units. Respond if you can hear me. Over."

Silence was the only answer so he tried again, his mood souring at the prospect of being stuck without water.. "To any and all Britannian units, this is Griffin One Actual. Respond! Over."

He was met with silence again, before a voice came through his ear.

"Ciaran! Is that you?" It was General Darlton, causing Ciaran's mood to rise.

"General! I am bloody glad to hear from you, sir."

"Oh, same to you too, son. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Lost my Gloucester though, and when I ejected, I landed some ways away from my unit. What about you, sir?"

Darlton let out a sigh before he replied. "In a word? Shit. I've lost nearly all of my forces, and from what I can tell, General Alex is dead and Cornelia's Knightmare is disabled. She's alive, thankfully, so that's some good news out of this whole affair."

"And the JLF?" Ciaran asked as his eyes scanned his immediate surroundings for any sign of the enemy.

"Routed. Near as we can tell, they've fled the mountain. But we can't do anything to pursue them."

"And the Black Knights?"

"Vanished. They fled when the Lancelot disabled their red Knightmare."

"All right then." Ciaran said with a sigh. "So any chance of a pick-up, sir?"

"We'll get something out to you soon, lad. I'm at the G-1 now, so I'll try and wrestle something up to help you."

"All right, sir. See you soon." The young man switched off his headset before resting his back against the seat of his cockpit, sighting gently as a soft breeze came by, gently brushing over his skin and making him close his eyes as he leant his head back to face the sky. The adrenaline had worn off now and he felt like taking a nap until held arrived.

A quick series of loud beeps snapped him back in to the world. Snapping his head back up, the young Briton slid down from his position, trying his best to avoid hitting the instruments inside. Leaning down, he tried to find the source of the beeping. Focusing on the main screen, he cycled through the various screens trying to find what was causing the sound.

Selecting a map of his immediate area, Ciaran found that the beeping was a proximity alarm. Judging from the position of the icons, roughly nine in total, they were in a position up-slope from him, roughly one hundred metres from him to the north-east.

There wasn't any IFF code attached to the icons though.

Keying his headset, the Captain contacted Darlton again. "General? Just a quick question: what's the status on that retrieval unit?"

"Just getting it together now. We'll be with you ASAP, Ciaran."

A cold jolt of dread shot down Ciaran's spine. Moving quickly, he scrambled out of the cockpit and vaulted over the side to land in a crouch on the ground before pressing his back against the side of the metallic object.

"General." He hissed out, even though there was no chance of him being heard. "I've got multiple enemy contacts, one hundred metres to my north-east."

"What?" The General replied, shock in his voice. "Ciaran, stay put! I'll get to you as quick as I can. Don't do anything stupid."

Leaning round the side of the cockpit, the young man's eyes trailed up the slope of the mountain, looking for any sign of who was moving up there. Curiosity got the better of him as he swung himself around the corner before sprinting to the nearest piece of cover, a large rock some fifty yards away from him.

Landing behind the rock, he crouched low as he looked up the slope, before unlimbering his pair of binoculars from it's pouch and bringing them up to his face, scanning the environment. Through the magnified lenses, he could see several heads bobbing up and down behind some foliage but not much else told him who he was facing.

He had to get closer!

Ignoring Darlton's words, he holstered the binoculars and quickly began climbing up the mountainside. Luckily the slope was a gentle incline, meaning he could stay close to the ground without exerting too much energy, and the numerous foliage gave him ample cover as he climbed up the slope, moving in a lateral manner to the unknown force. Spying a good piece of cover, he moved quickly to enter the small copse of trees.

The cover was the ideal spot for him: it was close to the path he guessed the unidentified soldiers would take, while stopping them from seeing him from the direction they were coming from. Crouching low behind a tree, Ciaran removed his pistol from it's holster. Moving his left thumb, he touched the safety catch before pressing it down, readying his firearm for action. Leaning forward slowly, he peered around the trunk and up the slope in front of him.

He could see nine figures moving around behind some foliage. They certainly weren't Britannian military. No Britannian unit he saw mustering for the attack wore black uniforms. And there definitely weren't any Japanese units attached to the operation.

It clicked slower than he wanted, but the realisation hit him: these were the Black Knights.

Moving quickly, he rounded the tree and began advancing up the slope, his pistol held in front of him. Running in a near crouch, Ciaran tried his best to keep out of sight as possible, sticking close to any shrubbery he came across. However, it looked like the black-uniformed soldiers were too engrossed in their own tasks to pay any attention to their surroundings.

He was about fifty metres down the path from them when he stopped behind a sizeable bush, ducking behind the foliage, mentally thanking Darlton for giving him the olive drab pilot suit. Using his right thumb, he slowly slid the hammer of his Webley back in to the firing position. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but the click of the hammer sounded louder than it should realistically have been.

Breathing in deeply through his nose, the young captain let out a steadying breath before moving from behind the bush, keeping his body low and his eyes trained on the area ahead of him. Coming closer, he could hear the people talking to each other loudly. Taking a risk, he raised himself up slightly as he made his way towards a tree near the path the Black Knights' were taking. When he was in a position where he felt that he wouldn't be seen, he lowered himself down to a crouch as he heard the group approach.

Listening over his breathing and the soft rustle of the foliage by the wind, he could the group approach his position. He couldn't understand what they were saying. Although how could he when they were talking in Japanese, a language he only knew... hell, he didn't even know the bare minimum. The tone of their voices told him all he needed to know however: they were grumbling to each other, a few raising their tone angrily. One of them, a woman's voice, quickly called out, obviously telling the group to quiet down.

Ciaran's breathing came out short and shallow as he heard the sound of their approaching feet. Hurried, but with not with a sense of urgency, like students walking between classes. They had no idea who would be near them, nor had any belief that they were in any danger.

In a word, they were cocky.

Letting out a shallow breath, Ciaran readied himself to move away. He had seen what he needed to see and discover what he needed to discover. Nine against one were horrible odds, even if he was armed, so his best option was to move away from the area and head back for the pick-up with Darlton's rescue unit.

He felt his legs tense up, ready to move him away from his position at the command. He shifted his grip on his pistol in to a one handed grip as he prepared to move-

A click near the back of his head was accompanied by the feeling of a warm gun muzzle being pressed against the back of his head.

"Don't move, _gaijin_." A heavily accented voice behind him said, no attempt made to hide the disgust as they spoke. "No stand up!"

"Fuck..." Ciaran said quietly to himself as he did what he was ordered to do, holding his arms out to his sides. A quick jab in his back from the gun told him to move forward out of the foliage and on to the path he was spying on.

On the other side of the bushes, the young man was greeted with a mixture of submachine guns, pistols and even a rocket propelled grenade pointed directly at him. He didn't flinch from the glares of outright hostility directed at him.

The man who captured him spoke swiftly to his superior, a young woman about Ciaran's height, with long hair the same shade of blue as Cecile's, and a cold demeanour as she pointed her submachine gun at the young man.

"Drop the pistol, Brit." She commanded tersely. Complying, Ciaran set the hammer back to it's safe position while snapping the safety back on before placing the pistol on the ground. With a clattering sound, the man who captured him kicked the pistol in to the under-brush before he circled Ciaran, keeping his weapon trained on him as he stood beside him.

One of the men beside the woman began talking to her quickly in hushed tones, keeping his voice low even as he kept his eyes trained on Ciaran.

"My name is Ciaran Forsyth." The young man said, interrupting the man's conversation and making him glare even harder at him. "I'm a captain in Viceroy Cornelia's Royal Guard, under the command of General Darlton. I'll say this now: if you plan to use me as a political hostage, then you're mistaken."

Stepping forward, the woman lowered her submachine gun. Drawing closer, Ciaran could see that she was scrutinizing him, her brown eyes looking closely at his pilot suit.

"Zero will know what do to with you." She said icily, before turning away and walking towards the others.

Ciaran stepped forward, opening his mouth to speak before his world exploded in to pain as the man who found him cold-cocked him with the butt of his weapon. The blow spun him half around, knocking his headset loose before he collided with the ground.

The last thing he saw before consciousness left him was the distant movements of armoured vehicles and a Gloucester heading to where his cockpit rested.

* * *

Inoue watched as the Britannian pilot hit the ground hard, his body falling like a marionette puppet with it's strings cut.

"Squad leader Inoue, what are we going to do about him?" Asato, the man who knocked the pilot unconscious asked, his gaze flicking between herself and the man on the floor.

"I saw we put a bullet in him." Saito Teika, the oldest member of Inoue's squad, growled out. The man was in his late thirties, with a permanent growth of stubble and twisted scar over his left eye. Apparently, he had lost his family in the Britannian bombings on Tokyo, although no-one was comfortable with asking the man outright if it was true.

"Squad leader, I don't feel right about killing a man we just knocked out, ma'am." Hirota Takeshi, the youngest member of the squad said, looking furtively at his superior.

Personally, Inoue had no idea what to do. They were on the clock here. If they missed the rendezvous, then they'd probably be stuck at Narita, and she had no idea how many more forces the Britannians had in reserve.

Thinking quickly, she made her choice.

"Look at his uniform." She said, drawing everyone's attention to the man lying on the floor. "Have you ever known a Britannian unit to wear green pilot suits?"

Collectively, the group muttered that no, they hadn't.

"So this guy must be from a special forces unit. That must mean the Viceroy is planning something special. So we're taking him with us. Now!"

"Yes, ma'am!" The squad called out, Teika slinging his weapon before hefting the unconscious man on to his shoulders. Moving quickly, the group made their way towards the rendezvous point.

As she passed the spot where the man hadn't fallen, something on the ground caught Inoue's attention. Kneeling down, she picked up the object; a headpiece worn by pilots to communicate. From the ear-piece, she heard someone frantically talking through it.

"... at your position, but we can't find you. Ciaran, where are you?"

Dropping the object, Inoue quickly used the heel of her boot to shatter the device before jogging to join up with her squad.

* * *

 **AN: Whoof! Holy crap this took a while. 25 pages. HA! This is the longest chapter, so far, for A Brave New World. And I managed to finish it off before I had to leave for work too! Wahoo!**

 **Also, some good news: Code Geass: A Brave New World has reached two milestones: over 100 followers and over 100,000 words! This is the longest piece of fiction I've ever written.**

 **But yeah. I was tempted to break this up as a two parter, but in talking with mrthischarmingman2, I agreed that after I had already done another two-parter chapter, then doing another right after might be a bit insulting. Even though I'd probably just post the second half immediately after the first.**

 **As for the chapter: yeah, there are a few breaks from the canon on this one. Suzaku and the Lancelot don't launch immediately, Lelouch obviously doesn't have the complete trust of the Black Knights at the start, and there a few more things, most notably that Shirley's dad does get killed in the original canon. How that affects the story? *shrug* Only time will tell.**

 **So, as always: read, enjoy, review. See you next time.**


	16. Chapter 16

"We are at your position, but we can't find you. Ciaran, where are you?"

The request left Darlton's mouth quickly, agitation in his voice. He opened his mouth to speak again before the sound of crackling static burst in to his ear, making him wince with surprise. He tried switching his earpiece to various frequencies, trying to see if he could raise the young captain.

Nothing but static came as a reply.

Standing on what had to be the only unbroken ground in the Narita mountains, Darlton let his eyes scan over immediate area as the recovery team he had assembled began spreading out around Ciaran's abandoned cockpit, the equipment standing up like an obelisk.

"I want a full area spread!" Turning to address the men behind him, the general roared. "We've got thirty minutes until we have to withdraw, so let's get this done quickly."

A flurry of acknowledgements answered his order as the soldiers went about their business, quickly fanning out in to the surrounding brush. Turning away, Darlton swore to himself as he began stalking off to look for any signs of his young comrade.

He had told him to stay put, goddamnit! And Ciaran had been doing so well at following orders.

"So where the hell have you gone?" The scarred general asked to the disappeared young man as he let out a deep sigh.

The sound of a Knightmare approaching him from behind drew Darlton's attention, as he turned to see an approaching white Gloucester with rounded armour.

"Any luck, General?" Nonette's voice came through Darlton's earpiece. The general couldn't help but smile at the concern in the Knight's voice. He knew that she and Ciaran had gotten quite close during their time in Area 11, even if Nonette did end up causing him to go red in the face more often than not. But she treated him like a friend, so it was glad to see her here.

"Not yet, my lady. But we've only just started, so there's hope yet." He replied, smiling at her eagerness.

"Anything I can do to help?"

Darlton was silent for a few moments, thinking about what help Nonette could give in her Knightmare. Looking over the machine, he looked at the large optic on the right side of the head. He knew that the _Bedivere_ was unique in that instead of a covered Factsphere like regular Knightmares. Instead it had a single, exposed optic that could switch between the various spectrum of lights that humans couldn't see.

"Can you scan the area for any heat signatures nearby? A hundred metres or so should do it."

Instantly, Nonette's voice perked up. "I'm on it!"

Darlton couldn't see what was going on with the Bedivere's optics, but from seeing how Nonette turned the machine from side to see, scanning the area for any heat signatures, he knew that it was working. Looking around, the general saw that he was the only one of the group not doing anything, so he began walking towards Ciaran's abandoned cockpit to see what he could tell from the silent piece of machinery. Rounding the metal construct, he knelt down as he found what he was looking: a deep set of footprints where Ciaran had landed when he came out of the cockpit. Turning in place, the scarred general followed the direction of the footprints. Standing up, he began following the tracks in the mud.

His days in the Britannian Special Air Service had taught him many skills in jungle warfare on top of those he learnt in the regular infantry. One of those skills was tracking. The best trackers could tell what condition their quarry was in, what they were carrying, and other things the hunter needed to know.

Putting his skills to work, Darlton focused on the footprints on the ground, following their trail in the ground. He could see that Ciaran had sprinted from his original position, taking cover behind a large boulder, then moving around it in a crouch then running quickly up the hill in a near enough straight line.

"Sergeant Adams!" He yelled out, not needing the earpiece as his strong voice rolled over the space between him and the chosen man. "I need three men to follow me, on the double!"

Darlton didn't wait for the reply as he moved up the slope, following the mental map in his head of the likely route Ciaran had taken. His long legs carried him up the slope in powerful strides as he focused on the route, so focused on finding his young comrade that he initially didn't register Nonette's voice coming through his ear.

"Darlton? Are you listening to me?"

"What? Sorry, Nonette. What have you got?"

"I just said that I did a thermal scan of the area. And I've not picked up anything. I can't find him."

The news made Darlton stop in his tracks, the sound of several pairs of feet coming up behind him.

"Do you want me to widen the scan area?" Nonette asked, the slightly morose tone of her voice telling Darlton that she didn't think it would do any good.

"No, it's all right." The general said as he began walking up the slope again, the three soldiers following behind. "I'm going to keep searching for him. You can head back if you want."

"I'll stay here, if it's all the same."

Darlton couldn't fight the smile that came to his face at the finality in the Knight of Nine's voice. He gave no answer as he continued, his path taking him through some more foliage until he came across a more well-trodden path. Crouching down, Darlton's black eyes scanned the area immediately around him, looking for any more footprints.

"All right, spread out." He ordered the men who accompanied him. "Keep your eyes open for anything suspicious."

"Yes, general." They said as one before they began to search the area.

Looking over the ground before him, Darlton recognised that the signs that a large number of people have been here in the area. Nine sets of footprints heading in one direction, all walking in the same direction to the south-west, before they stopped to be joined by two more pairs. Judging from the direction that one of the tracks came from, the general that it had to be Ciaran.

His suspicions were confirmed as his eyes caught sight of something in the mud. Reaching down, he picked up the smashed remnants of a standard-issue headset. They were mangled, splintered, but unmistakably Britannian.

"Oh, no." He muttered quietly to himself.

"General! I've found something." One of the soldiers called out, the man stooping down over something metallic in the mud which he proceeded to pick up. Darlton rushed towards him as the other two soldiers gathered around him. Holding his hands palm up, the soldier presented a dull metal Webley pistol with ivory handles.

The sight of it, which would have filled Darlton with dread, made him sigh with relief.

"What's wrong, general?" The soldier asked, looking at the scarred man in confusion.

"The safety is on and the hammer's decocked. Since there's no body, it's evident that Ciaran wasn't caught in a fire-fight, and the fact the pistol is set to safe then that means that he set it that way himself."

"So what do you think happened to him, sir?" Another soldier asked, looking around the area for any sign of the missing officer.

Darlton let his fingers rub over the slide of the pistol while he thought on the question. It was true that there was no evidence that Ciaran had been caught in a fight, but he doubted that Ciaran would be taken without a scuffle.

"I'm not sure." Darlton said, looking up and letting his eyes play over the environment. "But I don't think he's gone for a shit."

"Darlton, come in." Nonette's voice came in to his ear again.

"I'm here, Nonette. Find anything?"

"No. It's the same as before; I can't find anyone apart from you and your team." Nonette said dejectedly. "But that's not the problem. Nellie's calling everyone back to the G-1. Now."

Darlton didn't say anything in reply. He knew that the strike force was in a tenuous position. They didn't know where the JLF or the Black Knights had gone to and what their remaining strength was. Two key factors that could decide the outcome of this whole operation, and the Viceroy was playing it safe by pulling out.

"All right, we'll be there ASAP." Darlton said before addressing the soldiers around him. "All right, gents. We're pulling out. Head back down to the APC and get ready to move out."

"What about the captain, sir?" The final soldier asked, a look of confusion on his face.

Looking at the top of the mudslide, Darlton furrowed his eyebrows as he mulled over the question.

"Captain Forsyth is a resourceful young man. He'll be all right." Clutching the Webley tightly, the general turned and began moving down the slope. "Come on. We don't want to miss the pick-up."

On his way down the slope, Darlton began silently praying to himself, and to his missing young friend.

'Good luck to you, Ciaran. Stay safe."

* * *

Regaining his consciousness, the first thing Ciaran was aware of was that he could not fully see.

Well, no. That wasn't specifically true. The first thing he was aware of was the fact that he was in a moving vehicle. And he _could_ see, but all he could see was darkness with tiny pin pricks of light.

"What the fuck?" He said louder than he intended to as he put his hands up to touch his face. As he did, the movement of his hands to his face brought the sensation of something hard and thin digging against his skin, bringing the memories rushing back of what happened at Narita.

"Oh, yeah. That happened." He mused to himself, before he felt himself being bumped up on his seat slightly as the vehicle he was travelling in, probably a truck, went over a bump, making him swear as he found himself flung from side to side, evidence that he was not wearing a seatbelt.

As he was jostled to his sides, Ciaran's shoulders slammed in to two people on his sides, causing cries of alarm from his partners.

" _Baka_!" One of them, an older male's voice roared in Japanese before being joined in by the voice of a younger male, this time in English.

"Watch it, _gaijin_!"

He heard a few more exclamations in Japanese, some seemed to be jeers while others were quiet calls of hatred, if his judge of their tone was right.

Ciaran didn't say anything as he righted himself, his other sense coming back as he felt a throbbing pain in the right side of his head. The memories of someone hitting him hard in the side of the face came rushing back to him, making him groan, one part in pain and one part in exasperation at his predicament.

"Fuck..." He muttered quietly as he let his head slump down, not making another sound as the vehicle he was in continued it's journey to it's destination. The other occupants on the van began talking, taking their captives silence as compliance from him, so several of them began talking more animatedly to each other.

Ciaran's silence didn't mean he was idle though, sitting in silence as he tried to focus on his immediate situation. Judging by the voices he could hear, he had to guess that they were the group who had captured him at Narita. Fidgeting with his wrists, he tested the strength of his restraints, confirming that they were a plastic zip-tie. Tough, but not unbreakable, if he remembered what he read online about them. Checking his legs by giving them a quick flex, he found out that they were unrestrained.

Feeling a bit cocky, Ciaran decided to test his restraints, twisting his wrists back and forth against each other, feeling the burn of the friction of the skin and sharp pain of the plastic digging in to his skin.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." A female voice said flatly. Her voice was loud enough for Ciaran to hear, but low enough for no-one else to hear, judging by the constant level of noise. Even though he couldn't see through the bag on his head, he knew that the voice was coming from directly in front of him.

In reply, Ciaran only held his hands up, or as best he could, in a placating manner before letting his hands fall against his lap, resigning himself to his fate and his head drop forward. As he did though, he became painfully aware of the steadily increasing pain in the side of his head, making him groan loudly in pain.

"Head hurt?" The woman asked, although it was hard for Ciaran to pick-up any form of sympathy in her voice, so he nodded his head, making him wince in pain. The sudden removal of the bag over his head was the only warning he got before his eyesight was filled with bright light, making him screw his eyes tight before he was certain he would be blinded.

Blinking his eyes quickly to get rid of the blotches of light that were swimming in his eyes, Ciaran's eyes found themselves looking at the woman who had captured him at Narita. Seated in front him, she could have been easily described as pretty; soft features, large brown eyes with long, shoulder length indigo coloured hair. Although right now, her features were fixed in a fierce scowl with a pistol in her hand which she rested on one of her knees.

"What's the matter, soldier boy?" The woman said testily, evidently not happy that Ciaran had woken up at all.

"My head hurts." Ciaran replied curtly, not wishing to start an argument with the woman.

Tilting her head sideways slightly, the woman's gaze focused on the side of Ciaran's head, which in turn made the young man aware of the feeling of liquid trickling down the side of his face. It wasn't enough to cause a major sense of panic, but it was still quite distressing.

The sight of the blood travelling down his head caused the woman's face to scrunch up in a look of disgust as she turned to talk to the man beside her, taking him out of his own conversation. The two spoke in hushed tones, although using their native language made it harder to follow. Casting the occasional glance at Ciaran, the man nodded his head before reaching in to a satchel bag that he had next to him, rummaging around quickly before withdrawing a small, metal case in his hands before moving to stand up in the cramped interior of the vehicle.

"Don't move too much." The woman said as the man began taking several pieces of cloth out of the box. Moving quickly, he began swabbing at the cut on Ciaran's head before binding it up with a patch of gauze and some bandages, working very easily despite the jostling nature of the vehicle he was in.

The medic began rooting through his satchel again before taking out a small, thin plastic box which he quickly handed to Ciaran along with a canteen of water.

"Take two. Now." The man said without any fanfare before taking his seat back next to the woman. Not wanting to argue, and feeling the pain in his head starting to increase, Ciaran opened the small box and took out two of the small pills that were inside it. They looked like any regular pills for pain-relief, but the throbbing pain in his head didn't let him argue so he quickly poured the two out on the palm of his hand.

Making sure his mouth was well lubricated with saliva, he quickly popped the two pills in to his mouth before unscrewing the top on the canteen. He was never able to swallow pills so he tried working his tongue to move the pills to his oesophagus before taking a large swig of water.

The plan seemed to have work as Ciaran felt the water and the pills go down his throat, but it still made his gag reflex go in to near overdrive, making him gag slightly. Swallowing, he forced the water and it's contents back down his throat, making him sigh in contentment as he kept it down.

The pain-killers wouldn't kick in immediately, so he just rested his back against the side of the vehicle he was riding in as he offered the box back to the woman in front of him. It was to his surprise that the woman shook her head.

"Keep it with you. You'll need it."

Ciaran nodded his head in surprise before placing the box in to one of the pockets inside his pilot suit. He took another swig from the canteen before handing it back to the man who was most likely the team medic who took it quickly before Ciaran settled back in to his seat as best he could.

The rest of the journey continued in relative silence, none of the people sitting immediately around Ciaran making any noise, either to him or to each other. He had left his watch back at the base, so he couldn't tell how long they had been travelling for, but it felt like it had to be well over an hour. They must have passed in to a rural district since, past the hum of the vehicles engine, Ciaran could faintly hear the hustle and bustle of a city or a town. The sounds didn't last long as the transport turned a corner and the noise began receding, until only the sound of the engine remained.

The loud sound of a large, metallic shutter being lifted open got Ciaran's attention as he began looking around the vehicle more closely to try and get a glimpse out of the vehicle. A strong arm across his chest stopped him from raising himself up as, looking to his side, he saw the older man from Narita give him a scowl as he pushed him back down in to his seat.

The sound of the vehicle stopping got everyone's attention as their heads turned to the door at the back. At a short command from their leader, the group in the truck all stood up, the two men beside him dragging Ciaran to stand on his feet. The door opened and Ciaran prepared himself to be blinded like the first time, only to open his eyes further in surprise at what he saw.

They were in a warehouse or something similar, it's high-ceiling supported by wrought iron beams, each one taller than a Knightmare and with a catwalk winding it's way between each beam. The room they were in had to be several hundred square-feet and laid out in a rectangular pattern.

But that wasn't what surprised Ciaran. It's what was in it.

There were Knightmares parked along one side of the area, roughly about three dozen of them, each one standing stock-still. To one side of them sat a score of large trucks, matt black and grey and surrounded by various crates and boxes.

And the number of people! Ciaran had only heard random numbers during the battle at Narita, ranging from fifty to roughly a hundred, but seeing all of these people.

There had to be at least two hundred people here! And by the looks of it, the majority of them were armed and ready for fighting. This was definitely something that Cornelia needed to be told about.

As he made his way out of the truck, the Briton became aware that many pairs of eyes were staring at him, each one filled with hostility as the looked at him as Ciaran was practically herded towards the inside of the building. Inside, he became faintly aware of a sound he probably should have expected to hear: people singing. It wasn't really in tune, and the fact it was in Japanese didn't make it any more sense for him to hear, but it wasn't definitely singing. The sound of victorious group.

It made him wonder about how Darlton and the rest were taking the outcome of the battle.

"Hey, Inoue!" Someone cried out, catching the woman's, and Ciaran's attention. The woman let out what could only be described as a sigh as she saw who was approaching her group. He was the same height as Ciaran and Inoue, if the annoyed looking woman was who he was addressing, but he had a much thinner build. He had a head of deep brown hair which was tried up with a red bandanna and had a wispy attempt at a goatee on his chin and a bottle of beer in his hand. His face had a very bright red tint to it, indicating that he was, in the best word, drunk.

The man was surrounded by a group of men and women who all looked equally as coloured as their leader was as the man began conversing with the woman who had just arrived. Ciaran had to admit that he wasn't the most knowledgeable on the Japanese language, but he had serious doubts that it had quite as many 'sh' sounds as this man used.

"Sho is thish the bashtard?" The man said suddenly turned to look at Ciaran.

The indigo-haired woman tried to say something to him, probably telling him to leave it, but the man waved of her words as he walked past her, almost literally shoulder-checking her out of the way.

"He doeshn't shay much, doesh he?" The man said out loud, although the Briton was sure that this man was not attempting to be subtle. He was, in the best words, sloshed.

The bandanna-wearing Japanese man stared daggers at Ciaran as he stood under guard. Or tried to stare daggers at him as he swayed gently back and forth, approaching the young man.

"Well, come on, you Brit bashtard. Shay shomething." The man slurred out. The stench of alcohol was on his breath, the smell hitting Ciaran full in the face, though he fought against the reflex to turn his head away in disgust.

"Tamaki, _anata go yotte iru_." The woman called Inoue said exasperatedly, rolling her eyes at her companions antics before twisting her head to the side, the smell of alcohol hitting her full force. Nonplussed, the man waved a hand in front of his face, a somewhat goofy smile on his lips.

The man replied in Japanese, making the already difficult to understand language even harder to comprehend as he slurred drunkenly, although the tone obviously showed that he was enjoying himself too much. His gaze then shifted to the prisoner, trying his best to look menacing while he was obviously shit-faced. "Come on, mate! Let's shee a shmile."

In reply, Ciaran decided to play to the man's image of him as a Britannian. Clearing his throat slightly, he crossed his hand over the other, holding the backs on his hands in a reverse version of parade rest while he shifted his feet to stand closely together. Straightening his back, he put on his best copy of the straight faced masks worn by the Grenadier Guards at Buckingham Palace.

Tamaki's arms dropped near instantly down his sides as his expression shifted to something that was a mix between anger and annoyance. "Oh, sho you're just another shtuck up Brit bashtard, are ya?"

No reply came, though the eyes of Inoue and the other guard flicked between Ciaran and the drunk Tamaki, probably guessing what would happen next.

"Yeah, you're one shtuck up bashtard, aren't you? No wonder Cornelia chose you. She's one shtuck bitch hershelf."

It was like a string had suddenly snapped as the man's words hit his ears. His passive mask fell away quickly, replaced by a snarl as he focused on the man before him. Before his guards knew what was happening, Ciaran sprung forward. Even though his wrists were bound together, his hands quickly found themselves clutched around the collar of the man's jacket before Ciaran's right leg shot upwards between the Japanese man's legs.

The Japanese man quickly let out a loud, high-pitched gasp of air as Ciaran's shin collided with his crotch, making all of the men watching the scene groan out loud in sympathetic pain. Tamaki began to fall backwards, his hands shooting to cover his groin, as the Briton let go of his grip on the collar. As the man fell, Ciaran quickly moved forwards, approaching him from the side before bringing up his foot to connect with the other man's face in a hard kick that nearly flipped him over.

Snapping out their daze and acting quickly, a few of the Black Knights rushed forward, tackling Ciaran bodily to the floor as their comrades body hit the ground. His vision swam for a few moments as he felt his head connect hard with the floor before blinking his sight clear.

"Hold him!" Inoue roared, drawing a pistol from a hidden holster on her belt and racking back the slide before advancing towards the prone figure of the captured officer, growling as she spoke to him. "You're going to pay for that, you bastard."

"Inoue!" A deep voice called out from behind, or rather above Ciaran. His eyes widened as he saw a masked figure, wearing an immaculate, deep purple suit and cape.

"Zero." Ciaran hissed out through gritted teeth, as the masked terrorist advanced towards him. With the loud _clack_ of his heels, Zero's feet came to rest very close to the young Briton's head as the masked man looked down at him.

Zero spoke out a command, prompting two of the men who had tackled Ciaran to raise him to his feet, turning him around to face the masked man. Looking at the man's visor, Ciaran grimaced as he realised that he wasn't even able to see his own reflection in mask's surface. "So, we finally meet face to face then, Captain."

Ciaran didn't say anything, only letting out a growl of disgust as Zero's hand suddenly shot forward and grabbed his chin forcefully. Through the combination of the positioning of Zero's hand and Ciaran's disgust in being handled so roughly, the young man couldn't help but bare his teeth at the man.

With an angry snarl, the young man shook his head free, shaking loose Zero's grip. "Take your fucking hands off me, you bastard!" He roared as he stared down the terrorist, even as he felt himself being restrained more tightly by the two men on his sides.

If his words or movements had any effect, the man standing in front of him gave no indication that he was surprised as Zero put his hands behind his back under the large cloak behind him.

"Well," Zero said, his voice level but Ciaran was certain he heard a twinge of humour in his voice. "Looks like I was wrong about you, Captain. You're no lapdog at all."

Ciaran didn't say anything as he heard someone, the Inoue woman, move around from behind him to approach Zero. He only scowled at the reflection of himself in Zero's mask.

The woman began muttering something to Zero, her eyes fixing Ciaran with a cold stare. She was quickly silenced though as the masked terrorist held up a hand to shush her.

"We're keeping him alive. He could be of use to us." Zero said loudly, confusing Ciaran slightly as he had spoken in perfect Japanese before.

A small voice in Ciaran's head said. ' _He's got something planned for you._ '

"Take him away." Zero commanded as he turned around, swirling his cape behind in a painfully overly dramatic fashion. A harsh shove told Ciaran to start moving, even as his eyes tracked the masked terrorist as he moved away from him towards one of the edges of the building. As he watched Zero leave the large space, Ciaran's eyes opened in shock as he saw a red-haired young woman approach the terrorist, obviously to talk to him. Even from where he stood though, Ciaran could see that Kallen's eyes were opened in adoration.

"Poor girl..." He whispered quietly, dejectedly, to himself.

He doubted her hearing was that good, but as soon as the words left Ciaran's mouth, the red-head turned her head to look at him. The young man didn't know how to react when he saw Kallen's eyes shift from adoration to surprise as she saw him being led away. She looked at him for only a second before turning her attention back to Zero as Ciaran was lead away to another part of the building they were in.

His trip through the building was a bit longer than when he was being led through the Viceroy's palace for the first time, although he put that down to the fact that he was just walking to his destination, rather than taking an elevator like he had before his first interrogation.

Letting his eyes roam around the corridor he was being led down, Ciaran tried to figure out what type of building he was, and maybe try and figure where that was. The walls were drab grey concrete, with various types of pipes, wires and grills set in to the structure. No major help there, although he had to guess it was some sort of industrial complex. Looking at the ceiling didn't help either, since it was practically the same as any other ceiling out there: squares of what looked like polystyrene divided by metal bars.

So he had no clue where he was and where he was being taken.

The irony was not lost on him as a small smile came to his face.

Ciaran and his guards continued walking on for several more minutes before they reached a metal door set in to the wall. It wasn't anything as foreboding and robust as the door he was shown through when he first arrived in this world. In fact, it looked... down right ordinary. Craning his neck up slightly, he saw the words 'MANAGEMENT' stencilled in black, block letters above the door frame.

The screech of metal on concrete as the door, evidently older and less used than it first appeared, made Ciaran and (to some degree of satisfaction) his guards wince as the door was opened.

"Get in." One of the Black Knights said, giving Ciaran a shove towards the door, which made the young man roll his eyes at the originality of his words.

"You could have said 'please', you know?" Ciaran muttered under his breath before beginning to walk inside. He was stopped as one of the men grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. The hard glare from the older man who Ciaran recognised as one of the men who captured him, before watching the man draw a knife from his belt. The young man followed the blade as the man pressed the tip of the blade to the bottom of the topmost part of the zip-tie before he jerked the blade upwards, snapping the plastic and freeing Ciaran's wrists.

Rubbing his wrists, Ciaran looked around, slightly confused about what to say, finally settling on "thanks" before entering the room. As he entered, he moved his hand against the wall past the door frame looking for a light switch. When his finger brushed against his target, he flipped the switch on, bathing the area in light as the fluorescent lights above his head flickered in to life.

The room was quite standard. Relatively spacious, with Ciaran guessing it was thirty feet by thirty feet, making it more spacious than the first room he was interrogated in. It was also filled with the standard stuff you'd expect to see in an office: two desks set back to back in the middle of the room with matching chairs, an array of filing cabinets set against the back wall, along with a water cooler and even a couch. There were two large windows against two of the walls, both at a right angle to each other, telling Ciaran that was most likely at the corner of the office. That was all he could tell from the room however as the windows were boarded up tight, letting only thin slivers of red light in to the office.

"Enjoy." One of the Black Knights said, although Ciaran didn't bother turning around as he heard the door screech shut behind him before locking.

Unperturbed, the young Briton quickly strode over to the closest window on his right, determined to find out what he could about his predicament. Closing on the window, he strained to see through the sliver between the wood and the window-frame. Peering through the gap fielded little information: he could just see the side of another industrial-type building, although a part of Ciaran's mind told him it could possibly be the same building he was in. A look out of the second window gave the same amount of information as a look out of the first: very little.

Sighing in frustration, Ciaran ran a hand through his hair as he looked around the room. No computers. No phones. No way to contact Darlton and the others. Although he knew he couldn't exactly pin-point his location. He was stuck here.

Moving over to the couch against the wall, the young man couldn't fight the grimace that came to his face at the state of the furniture. It looked sturdy enough, but it was covered it a serious layer of dust, unlike the other pieces of furniture in the room, and it looked like it had been used as a buffet for moths more than once. Giving the couch a swift but hard kick, Ciaran turned his head to avoid the dust that began to fly it.

"Could be worse." He said to himself as he sat down on the couch, spreading his arms to rest on the back of his seat. The pain from his head injury was coming back again so he reached in to his jacket pocket to take out the small packet of pills Inoue gave him. Looking around, he spied the water cooler. It looked like it had fresh water in it, and the increasing pain in the side of his head began to override Ciaran's sense of reluctance.

As he was about to push himself off of his seat, Ciaran was stopped by the sound of the door opening again. Paused in the process of moving off the couch, Ciaran's eyes instantly zeroed in on the form of Zero as the masked terrorist walked in, his hands obscured by his long, flowing cloak. Ciaran couldn't suppress his contempt for the man as he practically glided in to the room, like he owned the place.

Which, in retrospect, he probably did.

"How are you feeling, Captain?" Zero asked glibly, the reflective surface of the mask turning to look at Ciaran as he pushed himself off the couch to stand upright.

"Been better." Ciaran replied just as glibly.

The terrorist in front of him nodded in reply, before removing one of his hands from under his cloak to reveal a sizeable water-bottle, probably three litres by the size of it, before placing it on the surface of the closest desk.

"Squad leader Inoue told me that she gave you some pain-killers to deal with your injury. It seemed I would be a bad host if I deprived you of your medicine." Zero explained with some small measure of cordiality. Ciaran didn't buy it for a second as he quickly moved to quickly take the bottle off the desk before turning to face away from the man before him.

With the bottle in his hand, Ciaran swallowed, or rather strained to swallow the pill he took from the packet before downing it with the water, setting the bottle on the desk. Behind him, he heard Zero pull back one of the chairs and proceed to sit down in it.

"While we're here," Zero said, putting on a more placating tone of voice. "I was wondering if we could have a talk?"

Swallowing the liquid in his throat, Ciaran let out a satisfied sigh, before he spoke without turning around. "The only one I'd even consider talking to is that girl. Kallen. She's the only one of your lot I respect. Beside that Inoue anyway."

"I'm afraid that you won't be talking to her for a while, captain."

Turning his head slightly to shoot Zero a side-eye glance before speaking again.

"If you want me to join your group, shove it. I don't work with terrorists."

A short snort came from the masked man. "That's rich. Coming from a member of the Britannian army. Wasn't it your army that-"

The sound of Ciaran slamming his fists against the table as he spun around fully to face Zero, a look of anger on his face as he snarled out, "I will not be given a lesson in morality by a terrorist."

Zero let out a short bark of laughter. "Your general ordered the Saitama ghetto liquidated."

"You used the hostages at Lake Kawaguchi as human shields!" Ciaran roared, pushing himself off the desk to stand upright. "So don't take the moral high ground with me, mate."

"How can you, as a member of the Britannian military, say that with a straight face?" Zero asked patronisingly, sounding like he was talking to nuisance child.

Ciaran was quiet as he thought back to that day. He had stood silent as Cornelia ordered the inhabitants of that ghetto slaughtered. Stood by and done nothing.

"I was a lieutenant on that day." The Briton said with a tone of finality. "Even if I said anything against the plan, it still would have carried on regardless of my protests. I will not deny that I am as guilty of letting that atrocity take place as the Princess was."

The young man leaned forward as he rested his knuckles on the surface of the desk, his face taking a stony expression.

"But at least I'm not masquerading as something I'm not."

Watching Zero's back visibly stiffen as he spoke gave Ciaran a small sense of satisfaction.

"What are you talking about?" The masked man asked.

"You parade yourself as being a 'hero for justice'. But I have to ask: whose form of justice are you using: yours, or the Japanese?"

Standing back up straight, Ciaran crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at the seated man before him.

"Your first target, your very first target, was Clovis, an Imperial Prince and the Viceroy. If you wanted to cripple Britannian rule in this country, you would have gone for any other target. Maybe start off small: a local politician or two. Maybe a police official or two. But instead, you choose to go right for the very head of government. That tells me one thing about you: you've got a grudge, pure and simple, against the Britannian Royal Family."

For his part, Zero said nothing, simply shrugging in reply. "So what if I do? Does it change anything?"

"It changes everything!" Ciaran replied, chuckling as he spoke. "You're using these people. These people who want their God-given freedom, and you're using them to seek revenge. You're nothing but a fraud."

"A fraud?" Zero asked, standing up. The young Briton knew that the masked man was ready to speak but he didn't give him a chance to continue as he felt his anger rise.

"These people admire you, they put their trust and their hope in you. But you're playing them like a fiddle. They look to you to give them the future they could only dream of, but we both know that you'll give them nothing for the sort. Their fight is for your own selfish reasons, nothing more. You can't liberate these people, because you never intended to!"

The screech of the door opening filled the room as two Black Knights rushed in, submachine guns held ready, before they were stopped by a curt command from their leader. Ciaran paid them little attention, his blood pounding through his ears and his breath coming out in harsh, ragged breaths. His fists were clenched tightly, his knuckles going white.

One of the guards yelled something, lifting his weapon to aim it at Ciaran before Zero silenced him by holding out his arm to stop him.

"You think these people can stand up against Britannia alone? An empire that rules over a quarter of the globe? How can anyone, any group, stand against that?" The masked man asked, his voice not betraying any emotion.

Ciaran was silent for a few minutes as he fought hard to reign in his anger. When he felt that he was better in control of himself, he shifted to stand straight, his eyes fixed squarely on the visor in front of him.

"Anyone can stand. It's human nature to want to stand their ground in the face of adversity, for what they believe in. But you've set these people on the path to destruction because you made their choice for them."

"What do you mean?"

"You killing Clovis set all of this in motion." Ciaran gestured around him, obviously in a metaphor, although the two guards looked around them in confusion. "Your actions brought Cornelia here. Your actions forced the Black Knights to become a militant group-"

"The Black Knights fight for justice." Zero interrupted him.

"A group for justice does not use innocent people as fucking human shields!" Ciaran roared, feeling the anger return before calming himself down. "You gave them the easiest, and most destructive path: you gave them no alternative but to fight. And they will fight. And they will die. And their blood will be on your hands. Not just the blood of your followers, but the blood of the people you seek to 'liberate' will be on your hands and yours alone."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Zero said, but there was no conviction in his voice.

"Aren't I? What happens if you win? What if you kill Cornelia and Euphemia and completely destroy Britannian rule in Area 11? You'd be fucked either way. You're newly freed Japan would be stuck between the forces of the Chinese Federation in the West and Britannia in the Pacific and the Homeland in the East. You'd stand against... what? Several hundred thousand, probably several million soldiers, with a couple of hundred souls and a couple dozen squads of Knightmares? It wouldn't be a war. It'd be a slaughter!"

Ciaran must have unknowingly been channelling his inner-Shakespearean actor, since his yell became more of a bellow, making the two guards shrink back slightly at the volume of his voice. To his credit however, Zero stood his ground, standing stiffly as the young man came down from his rage.

Zero was silent for a moment before he spoke, his voice cold and evidently annoyed. "I'll send someone in with pillows and a blanket. You'll get fed when everyone else is fed. Try not to do anything stupid now, Captain."

With an exaggerated twirl of his cape, the masked terrorist quickly moved towards the door.

Ciaran didn't say anything as he watched the man leave the room, quickly followed by the two guards, one of whom closed the door with a resounding _clang_.

As the sound of the door closing faded, the young man let out a loud sigh.

"Good job, Ciaran. Pissing off your jailer. Smart move." He chastised himself before sitting down on the couch again. Out of all the things he had done in this world, barring moving away from his cockpit pod, telling Zero that he was in the wrong was a bad move. Dangerously so.

But it had to be said. In his own world, it was a fact of life that so many revolutions would fail. France overthrew their king Louis only to replace him with Napoleon (although that was a bit of a give and take really). The Russians overthrew the tsar and his family only to replace them with Lenin and Stalin and their brutal reign. Rhodesia became Zimbabwe and made Mugabe their president.

He knew that it was a human right to disagree with a brutal government. Hell, even to oppose an oppressive government was a human right. But to go straight in to a violent revolution? Ciaran didn't agree with that for one minute. Violence was only ever to be used as a final resort, when all other alternatives had been exhausted.

Speaking of being exhausted, Ciaran let out a yawn as he felt the last of the adrenaline leave him. He hadn't been able to take that nap he intended to take before he was supposed to be picked up and unconsciousness was no substitute for a proper sleep.

Shifting his body to lie down on the couch, or as best as he could with it's size, he let himself fall in to sleep.

* * *

Slouching in one of the chairs in the smoke room of the Viceroy's Palace, oblivious to the darkening sky outside, the purple-haired woman sitting there with her feet crossed on a stool and a shot-glass of whiskey in her hand did not resemble the proud visage that Princess Cornelia normally exuded. She looked tired and irritable as she raised the glass to her mouth, the ice inside clinking quietly as she downed a portion of the alcohol.

Across from her, her companions were in no better moods. Guilford was hunched over in a contemplative pose, staring over the ridges of his half-moon glasses at his own glass, his chin resting in his palms. Beside him, Darlton's large form was reclined backwards, his head tilted backwards over the back the couch, his closed eyes looking up at the ceiling with a slight grimace on his face. Across from them sat Nonette and Dorothea, the Knight of Nine reclining against the side of the couch with her arms crossed over her chest, staring off at the far wall, while the Knight of Four sat slumped in her seat looking at her shoes. All of them wore morose expressions on their faces.

The only one not present was Euphie, the young princess agreeing to take care of the press release along with one of the members of the Purists, Villetta Nu.

Cornelia let out a sigh as she brought her glass to rest against her forehead before Nonette spoke up.

"Well. Today certainly sucked."

No-one made any actual words of confirmation, only making general muttering noises. Cornelia however made no noise in reply before she spoke.

"Is there any chance of stopping the news from reaching Pendragon, Guilford?"

The bespectacled knight shook his head that he didn't know. "I don't know, your highness. We've got all of the officer's after-action reports. But if news reaches the Homeland before we send them our side of the story, then that puts us in a bad position."

The Second Princess could only let out a groan in exasperation. "I should have planned for the Black Knights. I should have known that they would be there. But I didn't, and now I've lost two battalions and too many good officers."

Six pairs of eyes turned to look at Cornelia, Darlton still keeping his eyes closed but it was obvious that he was listening as his face softened slightly. They all knew who she was referring to.

"I'm sure he'll turn up, Nellie." Nonette said, a genuine smile on her face. "We've got soldiers combing the mountain for any soldiers who went missing, so they're bound to find him sooner or later."

"But if we didn't find him, what is the chance of the search teams finding him?" Darlton spoke up, shifting forward to lean forward, letting his arms drape over his legs, fixing Nonette with a cold stare. The champagne-haired woman didn't say anything in reply as she turned to face away from Darlton.

Everyone knew that the General's comment was not meant as an insult, only a fact. But the fact that Nonette, nor anyone else, didn't counter Darlton's comment showed how strung out they all were by the experience.

Downing another portion of her drink, Cornelia placed the cup on the table near her, hitting the wood loud enough to draw everyone's attention but not enough to break the glass.

"All right, everyone. It's been a tough day. I think it might be for the best if we all turn in early." Cornelia said, massaging her forehead. "We'll sort out this whole mess tomorrow."

A chorus of agreement met her idea, all except the Princess moving to stand up from their seats. As they did, a knock came from the other side of the door.

"Who is it?" Guilford called out, looking at the door in confusion.

"It's Spencer, my lord. Margrave Jeremiah has returned, sir." A man's voice came through the other side of the door. Looking at his Princess, who simply nodded, Guilford called for the man to enter. The door opened, revealing a short elderly man in a stereotypical butler's outfit. Beside him stood a very haggard looking Jeremiah Gottwald, his turquoise hair unkempt and tangled.

"You're dismissed, Spencer." Cornelia said while motioning for the nobleman to enter the room. Jeremiah came to stand near the table in the middle of the room as Spencer closed the door behind him.

Standing in front of them, Cornelia could see that, even though he was standing as straight as one of Pendragon's Royal Guards, Jeremiah was obviously nervous about something.

"What do you have to report, Gottwald?" The Second Princess said coldly.

The nobleman didn't look directly at her, his eyes focusing on a point just above her head before clearing his throat, obviously unsure of how to proceed.

"Margrave. What. Is your report?" Cornelia asked, obviously annoyed by the man's silence.

He was quiet for a few more moments, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Your highness, we searched all over the mountain including the town, what remained of it, and..."

The words died in his throat as he let his eyes drop.

"God damn it." Darlton muttered to himself angrily, standing up from his chair quickly before leaving the room, practically storming out. Dorothea, like everyone, was surprised by his reaction but quickly followed him, almost running to try and catch up with the General, calling for him to wait. Behind their exit, Nonette, Guilford and Jeremiah could only watch as Cornelia shifted her position to sit properly on the seat before nearly folding double, her hands coming up to clutch at her hair.

"Your Highness?" Guilford asked, reaching a hand tentatively towards her.

"Get out." Cornelia hissed sharply but loud enough for them to hear.

"Pardon?" Her Knight asked, looking at the Princess in confusion.

"I said get out!"

The roar shocked everyone in the room, Guilford and Jeremiah practically scrambling to leave the room as quickly as possible. Nonette however stayed behind, only moving from her seat to sit closer to Cornelia.

"Nellie?" She asked, worried over her friend's outburst.

"Get out, Nonette. Just get out!" Cornelia tried to yell out, but the power in her voice was sapped by the tears that were beginning to form. "Just... leave me alone."

"Now you know I'm not going to do that, Nellie." Nonette said, her voice soft and her tone comforting as she moved off her seat to crouch down next to the distraught princess. "What's wrong?"

"In less than a month, I've nearly lost my sister and someone I hold close to me." Cornelia's voice was becoming hoarse as tears began flowing more freely. "It's like seven years ago all over again!"

Nonette didn't say anything as she put a hand on to Cornelia's back, rubbing it gently up and down. She knew that Cornelia had cared about Ciaran, but to see her tearing up about him was not something she expected. But she had known how hard Empress Marianne's death had hit her, and it wasn't too surprising that Cornelia would bond with the young Briton the way she had with Marianne. They were quite alike in some respects: a commoner who had managed to work their way to stand shoulder to shoulder with Britannian royalty.

Leaning over, the Knight of Nine wrapped her other arm around Cornelia's front to take hold of her shoulder and pull her in to a hug as Cornelia spoke again.

"I am completely unable to protect the people I care for. Why am I even here if I'm so useless?"

Not saying anything, Nonette simply pulled her closer, continuing to stroke her friends back softly.

"It's going to be all right, Nellie." She finally said, rocking herself and Cornelia gently from side to side. "It'll be all right."

Her words didn't seem to have any effect on the weeping Princess, Cornelia's only reaction to turn her body and fully hug her friend as he cried in to her shoulder. For as long as she had known Cornelia, Nonette knew that grief wasn't an emotion that was easy to express for her. Between the rules and protocols forced on her as a princess and her time as a general, she had been conditioned to never show any form of weakness in front of others.

Only two people had managed to bring the real Cornelia to light: Nonette and Lady Marianne. The former because she would not stop pestering the Second Princess to show any other form of emotion except a scowl and she had forced her to watch one long binge-fest of romantic comedies when they were at the Colchester Imperial Military Academy.

The latter however never got to see how much she had affect Cornelia. It was only after Marianne's death that Cornelia first let loose the tide that she was holding back. Nonette never saw it herself, but she had heard of it from Euphemia, and it was enough to shake the young girl so it was enough to shake the Knight of Nine.

Nonette couldn't think of the right words to say in this situation, even though she liked to think that she was the person who people would come to when they were upset. So instead, Nonette did the only thing she could think of. She just kept her arms around Cornelia's shoulders as she gently rocked her body back and forward, stroking Cornelia's hair as she let her friend continue weeping.

* * *

In the kitchen of the warehouse they had commandeered, the Black Knights were still riding the high of victory in their first pitched battle. The more religious members of the group had held a small memorial ceremony to remember the dead, which some of the more boisterous of the group had quickly turned in to a wake. The party had been held in the main assembly area, with the soldiers dancing, singing and drinking around the feet of their Burais.

Well, some of them were. The original members, the Magnificent Seven as they were called by the group, were seated in the kitchen area. They all wore the standard-issue black uniform of the Black Knight, and were chatting happily to each other. And by chatting to each other, they were actually ribbing Tamaki for nearly getting the shit kicked out of him by their captive, and it brought no small amount of joy to Kallen's face to watch it happen. As usual however, Ohgi was tending to a steaming pot of chicken curry on the stove, looking more like a house husband than a terrorist.

"You do this every time, Tamaki." Minami said with a smile, pushing his glasses back up his nose as they nearly fell off. "Do you remember that time you tried to pick up that girl in that nightclub?"

"Thut up, Minami." Tamaki lisped out, his nose covered by a large bandage, before Kent joined in with the mocking.

"Oh yeah! Her boyfriend nearly beat the living shit out of you before Minami and Ohgi stepped, remember?"

"Jutht thut up." The wounded man said, feeling exactly as bad as he looked. The glare he got from Inoue made him feel even worse.

"What did you expect, Tamaki? He's a member of Cornelia's Royal Guard and you know how loyal they are to her."

All of the good mood seemed to be instantly sucked from the room as Inoue began berating Tamaki. Aside from Kallen, Inoue was the only female member of the original group. It hadn't given her any handicaps before, but as the Black Knights began expanding, more women began joining and it wasn't to Kallen's surprise that Inoue became a sort of mother-figure for them. She was smart, she was pretty and when it happened, she was downright terrifying when she got angry.

"And that's not the worst of it. You've all seen that bastards pilot suit."

"Yes, Inoue. We have. You've pointed it out several times already." Minami said, taking a sip from his coffee before Inoue continued speaking.

"I'm going to point it out because it's important, damn it!" The indigo-haired freedom fighter said, slamming her palm on to the table to get everyone's attention. "No Britannian Knightmare pilot wears a green pilot suit. Ever. I've had intelligence check and no unit has it. No unit that we know of at least."

"So what does that mean then?" Ohgi asked, the man coming over from the stove, wearing an off-white apron over his uniform.

"He has to be a special unit or something." Inoue said, dropping her tone to dangerous levels, drawing everyone in. "I'm thinking SAS. Or maybe something we've never heard about."

"You what?" Kent asked, not believing her in the slightest.

"It makes sense, you know." Ohgi answered, after mulling over the idea. "I heard that General Darlton used to be in the SAS and the SBS, so it wouldn't surprise me if Cornelia's got more special-forces types in her personal guard."

"Eff-bee-eff? Tamaki asked as Ohgi moved back to the stove, his nasal bandage not helping his question.

"Special Boat Service." Kallen answered, drawing all eyes on her. She had been unusually quiet for a while, the only one not to join in the conversation. She was usually one of the people to talk the most.

"Everything all right with you, Kallen?" Minami asked, leaning forward to rest his arms on the tabletop.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Kallen replied a little bit quicker than she intended to.

"It'th that Britannian bathtard, ithn't it?" Tamaki lisped out, inadvertently making Kallen smile at how stupid he sounded, before she nodded in reply.

"Do you remember me telling you guys that a Britannian officer tried to move me from my cell to another cell when you all came to rescue me?"

All of them nodded their heads, confused at what see was getting at. It was Minami that clicked fast than the others on what she was getting at.

"Wait. Are you saying that that guy is...?" The bespectacled terrorist gestured in the direction he knew the officer had been taken.

Kallen nodded.

"Yeah. He's the one who tried to rescue me." The red-head said flatly, not wanting to dance around the issue as her friends fell in to stunned silence. The resulting looks from the group made Kallen question whether she was in the right to just be straight up about the issue.

"Let me see if I've got this right." Kent said, placing an elbow on the table before he began rubbing his forehead with his fingers. "This guy... tries to rescue at Nagano, but then willingly gets in to combat with you at Narita?"

"He probably had orders to kill her." Minami said, sounding quit pleased with his own idea as the others nodded their agreement.

Kallen wanted to agree with him, but thinking back on her meetings with the soldier, she really had to question that idea. At Nagano, the captain had shown actual concern for her well-being, checking to see that she wasn't injured.. Even when she had started kicking him, he hadn't lashed out, only setting her in a more restrained position.

Even when she faced the captain at Narita, she didn't get the killing vibe that she got from other Knightmare pilots. That was further proven by his attempts to hit the Guren with his lance: all the hits were to it's legs, shoulders and arms. He had even offered her a chance to surrender, which was something only one other pilot she had faced had done before.

"Squad Leader Ohgi?" The voice of one of the young recruits who was posted on guard rotation approached the group, snapping Kallen from her thoughts and distracting all of the group from their conversation. "Zero says that it's time for the prisoner to be fed."

"Yeah, I'm on it." The apron-wearing terrorist said, taking a bowl from a shelf before moving towards the stove his pot was simmering on. Besides the large black pot was a smaller pot, and from the smell of it, it was filled with rice. As he was filling the bowl with the food, Ohgi began to speak. "So who's taking the food to this guy?"

"Well it's sure as hell not going to be Tamaki." Kent said with a smile which prompted the injured man to flip him the finger.

"Um, actually, Squad Leader." The guard said, obviously unsure about how to proceed. "Zero said that it should be Commander Kallen to take the food to the prisoner."

Everyone in the room stared at the young man in disbelief at his words before six pairs of eyes slowly turned to look at Kallen, her face showing the same level of confusion as everyone else in the room.

"Di-did Zero say why?" Kallen stammered out, finally managing to get the speech centres of her brain working again.

The guard only shrugged. "I'm just telling you what Zero told me: 'Get Kallen to give the prisoner his food.'"

The confused looks on everyone's didn't lessen as Ohgi finished filling the bowl he held before handing it to Kallen. The red-head didn't take it immediately though as she was still in shock over the order, resulting in Ohgi having to nudge her arm several times with the bowl to get her attention, holding the food practically right in front of her face when she snapped out of her shocked state.

"Thanks, Ohgi." She said quietly as she took the offered bowl, looking at the porcelain bowl filled with white rice, cooked chicken and various vegetables in a deep brown sauce. She stared at the food for a few seconds before she lifted her head to look at the others.

"You sure you want to do this, Kallen?" Minami said, looking at her sympathetically before Kallen nodded her head.

"Zero said I have to do it, then I have to do it." The teenager said stoically, before grimacing slightly as she felt her stomach knot up and then relax quickly. "Ohgi, could I get another bowl please? I'm pretty hungry."

The apron-wearing terrorist nodded his head quickly as he went to fix up another bowl of curry for the girl as Inoue stood up and walked up to the Kallen.

"Here. Take this." The indigo-haired woman said as she unholstered her pistol before fixing it in the waistband of Kallen's skirt, keeping the handle visible over her jacket. "Be careful."

"I will." The red-haired teenager said with a firm nod of her head as Ohgi returned with her bowl of food along with a pair of chopsticks and a fork. The addition of the latter took her by surprise as she arched an eyebrow at it.

"I doubt the guy knows how to use chopsticks." The pompadoured man said with a shrug.

"Do you want one of us to walk you their? Just in case?" Kent suggested as he pushed himself out of his chair before Kallen shook her head.

"I'll take you there, Commander." The young guard said, gesturing a thumb over his shoulder as Kallen began walking towards him. Moving to the side, the guard led her down the various hallways towards their destination. Throughout the journey, Kallen couldn't help but wrack her brain to try and think of why the prisoner would want to talk to her. He had tried to kill her at Narita. But at the same time, he had tried to move her to safety at Nagano.

"We're here." The guard said, gesturing to a metal door flanked by two more guards.

"Has he tried anything?" Kallen asked in as stern a voice as she could, knowing her role as the commander of the Black Knight's Knightmare squads put her at an important position in the group.

"Nothing of note, Commander. Zero met with him when he was brought in. They had quite a bit of a shouting match, if I'm honest. But he's been quiet ever since. One of the supply unit guys came in with a blanket and some pillows, but that's about it."

"Right. Open up then." Kallen said, looking at the door.

"Yes, commander." The older man said before moving to open the door. Kallen couldn't help but grimace at the sound of the door being pushed inwards, the teenager moving quickly to enter the room.

She honestly didn't know what she expected to find, but it certainly wasn't to find their captive lying down on the couch before propping himself up on one of his elbows to look at her. The man looked exactly as she remembered from Nagano: dark brown curly hair, thick stubble and a scar on his red right cheek. He was wearing the same drab green pilot suit he wore that day, although this time, he had the front zip opened to just below his chest revealing his torso. Kallen couldn't believe the man had done that, although as she entered in to the room proper, she felt the heat hit her in the face.

"Oh, is it dinner time?" He asked, a small smile on his face as he pushed himself to sit up properly on the couch. There was a hint of satisfaction in Kallen's head as she saw that he wasn't as tall as her mind told her he was.

"It's chicken curry. You better eat it, because it's all you're going to get." Kallen said as she put one of the bowls on to the top of the furthest desk before placing the fork alongside it.

"Oh, I've not had a good curry in a long time." The man said happily, standing up from his seat, pulling the zip up to below his neck as he did so.

The admission caught Kallen by surprise as she watched the officer move to take his seat at the desk. "You've had curries before?"

The prisoner looked at her in confusion as he picked up his fork and the bowl. "Well... not Japanese curries anyway. I have had Indian, Chinese and Thai though."

"How?" Kallen asked, finding the concept a little bit too strange to comprehend.

Again, the man looked at her in confusion. "Restaurants and cookbooks. Those things do exist in Britain, you know."

Kallen didn't say anything as she nodded her head. "I've been meaning to..."

Her question died in her throat as she saw him lean over the table, his right hand held towards her, the man expecting her to take it in a handshake. In his left hand, he was holding both the bowl and the fork.

"Oh, sorry." The man said, looking a bit embarrassed for interrupting her. "It's just that I've realised that we've never actually formally introduced ourselves."

Kallen looked at the outstretched hand like it was some kind of alien appendage, before letting out a sigh. Britannians were so strange.

"Kallen Kozuki." She said taking a hold of his hand.

"Captain Ciaran Forsyth." The man said, giving her a smile before leaning back to sit in his desk, replacing the bowl in to his right hand. "Now let's eat."

Kallen nodded as the man enthusiastically began mixing the rice and curry together before eating it happily. In return, Kallen clasped her hands together, just like her mother and brother had told her to do. " _Itadakimasu_."

The Captain looked up at her gesture a small smile, before he returned to his meal, practically wolfing it down. He paused the shortest moment between bites to speak. "So you wanted to ask me something, Kallen?"

The red-haired girl looked at him in surprise, her chopsticks held ready in her hand before she spoke. "If you're British, then why are you in the Britannian army? Let alone with Princess Cornelia's Royal Guard?"

Captain Forsyth stopped eating mid-chew, before finishing the food in his mouth. He put down his bowl before leaning back fully in his chair, his eyes looking at a point past Kallen's head on the door behind her. He was obviously deep in thought as he tapped in fork slowly on the rim of the bowl, his brow knitted with his thinking.

Kallen watched as he closed his eyes before leaning his forward and sighing softly. Opening his eyes, she was surprised to see his light green eyes seeming to bore in to hers.

"Only three other people in Japan know this but," Kallen had to lean forward as the man's tone took on a more conspiratorial tone. "I'm descended from an old Britannian noble. The man who covered the Royal Family's flight from the British Isles."

Kallen wracked her brain to remember her history lessons. Britannian history was always filled with the exploits of the Empire after they fled the Motherland, but so few of them actually mentioned the Flight.

"Duke... Duke Hector Forsyth. Right?" Kallen asked, unsure about her answer, only for a smile to come to her face as Captain Forsyth nodded.

"Aye, that's the one. Although I'm not a direct descendant, mind you. I'm a generation or two removed, but that was enough."

"Enough for what?"

The man let out another sigh as he put his fork to the side, before putting his elbows on the desk-top and resting one hand over the over. "There were some factions in the EU who thought my blood-line could be used to try and destabilize the Britannian forces attacking Europe. Something about... oh, fuck, I don't even remember what it was. Something about destabilizing Euro-Britannia with a coup or something."

Kallen felt her brow furrow in confusion, but she let the Captain finish his story.

"Then the Britannian Intelligence Agency must have caught wind of it because soon I've got them practically knocking on my door. My parents told me to escape and... so I did."

The last part was said with a hint of sadness that Kallen could only have missed if she were deaf, but she decided not to touch that topic as she asked her next question.

"So how did you end up with Cornelia if you knew the Britannian Intelligence Agency was after you?"

"It just sort of happened. A part of me said that the safest place I could be was to be right under the BIA's nose, but I didn't want to risk going to the Homeland, so I just kind of went travelling, trying to find the right place to lay low. I ended up here because of... well, I'd always wanted to go to Japan." The man said with a shrug and a smile.

"But you ended up in the Royal Guard of the Viceroy?" Kallen asked, sceptical about the whole idea.

"I met with one of the maids of the Palace when I was going around the Settlement. She agreed to take me for some food in the Palace kitchen then, well, I kind of got a bit lost." Forsyth began rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "One of the guard teams caught me. They took me before Darlton, then I met Lord Guilford and the two Princesses and... well, the rest is history."

"And Princess Cornelia keeps you in her Royal Guard, to protect you?" Kallen asked, the whole idea sounding alien to her.

"No-one would touch dare touch a member of her Royal Guard, especially if he's one of her officers. It was the safest place for me."

Kallen couldn't help but nod her head at the logic. It was the same logic her father had used to protect herself and Naoto from any overzealous nobles who took offence at her status as a mixed-breed daughter of a Britannian noble.

"What about you?" The officer asked, picking his fork back up as he commenced eating again. "What's your story?"

"Why do you want to know?" Kallen asked, shooting him an angry glare, to which the man simply shrugged.

"It makes for polite conversation. It's the least I can hope for from your group. You're obviously mixed-race, so how come you're with Zero and not the Britannian army?"

"What did you call me?" The girl asked.

"Mixed-race. I mean, that's what you are. I'm not going to use the term 'mixed-breed'. It's just... not right, in any way."

The words struck Kallen hard. It was true that she'd never heard anyone who was part Britannian and part-wherever-else be called 'mixed-race' before. Certainly, it sounded a bit better than 'mixed-breed', but she didn't see how it changed anything.

"Just because you feel like telling your story, doesn't mean I'll tell you mine." She said testily before returning to eating her meal. Across from her, Captain Forsyth didn't say anything except shrugging before returning to his meal too.

They ate in silence after that, neither one looking at each other. It was the sound of the man putting his fork across the lip of his bowl that drew Kallen's attention. Looking up, she saw him fixing her with a soft but unwavering stare.

"You need to leave the Black Knights."

Kallen's immediate reply was to make a spluttering sound as she began gagging on her food. "What kind of question is that?"

"It's not a question. It's a request: leave the Black Knights. For your own safety."

"Why would I leave the Black Knights? Zero has done so much for us. He's helped us." Kallen said angrily, glaring at the man.

"He helped one group of people. Once. And then he used them as fucking human shields!" Captain Forsyth countered, his face shifting from a kind look to something sterner.

"Britannia invaded and destroyed Japan!" Kallen countered.

A short bark of laughter stopped Kallen from storming out of the room as she watched her companion shake his head as he laughed.

"So that's it, isn't it? You joined him, not for justice, but for retribution. To smite your enemies in the fires of war and then when you stand in the ashes of what you fought to protect, you can stand tall and proclaim victory!" The man raised his arms dramatically at the last words of his sentence as his voice became something like an old-timey actor would use and it pissed her off.

"What are you saying?" Kallen hissed out, her fists clenching.

"Zero sees you as a weapon. That's all." Captain Forsyth said, leaning forward as he gave her a stony look. "If he thought of you as an equal, he'd use your half-Japanese heritage as a way to help the Japanese. But no. He only cares for the fact that he can use you as a weapon, a tool. Nothing more."

"That's not true!" Kallen roared out, slamming her fists on to the desktop, her anger dulling the pain. Behind her, she could faintly hear the men calling for but she quickly shut them up with an order in Japanese.

The man in front of her was unfazed by her outburst however as he kept talking. "So what happens if you do win? Let's pretend that Britannia won't try to get their territory back, or that the Chinese Federation won't try and claim Japan for themselves. What happens then? Will you stay here and help rebuild Japan?"

"Of course not. The Black Knights will keep fighting for justice." Kallen said proudly. She knew that Zero hadn't said anything as such, but she knew that was his plan.

Captain Forsyth leant back as he closed his eyes, his face softening before he spoke softly. "And there it is."

"There what is? What are you talking about?" The teenager asked, confused and angry at the same time.

"Cruelty begets cruelty, war brings war and death only brings death. You are doing nothing to break the cycle. You're just replacing one group of violent people with another group. At least the Britannians are honest in why they do it."

"We are honest!" Kallen cried out.

"No, you're fucking not!" Captain Forsyth replied loudly, standing up quickly, his chair falling behind him to clatter loudly on the floor. "Because if you were 'Knights for justice', the thought of war would be abhorrent to you! You wouldn't even dream of it."

"Why wouldn't we?" Kallen asked sternly.

"Because, where is justice in a war? You can preach about it all you want at the beginning, and you can say 'We were in the right' when the fighting is over. But when you fire that first shot, when your 'valiant' leader makes that declaration of war, that all goes out of the window." The man brought his hands to rest on the table, leaning forward to stare at Kallen. "When you fire that first shot, you have no idea who's going to die, who's children are going to be bombed, who's lives are going to be ripped apart and who's hearts are going to be broken."

Kallen was taken aback by his words as he continued speaking.

"If you were knights for justice, you'd do the right thing, the thing that should have been done at the very beginning: sit down and fucking talked! Then you would have realised that the right thing for you to do, the just thing for you do, would be to make sure that no-one has to go through this ever again."

The red-haired terrorist couldn't help but stare at the man in front of him. She had thought that Zero had spoken with conviction, but this man... he meant every word of it. She could hear his contempt for Zero's words and she could hear the hope in his last few sentences. His eyes even seemed to be pleading with her to listen to him.

It was a surprise to her that when she spoke, it actually pained her to say the words.

"I'm sorry, Captain. But I won't leave the Black Knights. I have to do this, and I cannot forgive Britannia for what they have done to Japan."

She picked up her bowl and chopsticks and turned around to walk towards the door. She hadn't made it more than a few steps before the man called out to her.

"Kallen!"

Turning her head to the side, she could see, out of the corner of her eye, that he had a sad smile on his face.

"You may not be able to forgive Britannia, but I forgive you."

That was a phrase that Kallen had not expected to hear, so she didn't say anything as she knocked on the door to get the guard's attention. She didn't respond as she walked out of the room, the guards looking at her in confusion and ignoring their questions as she moved past them, following the steps she took back to the kitchen. She found her friends still talking to each other as she moved past them to put her utensils in to the sink. She must have put the bowl down a little bit too hard because when she turned around, she saw that everyone was looking at with a concerned look on their face.

"You okay, Kallen?" Ohgi asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Kallen replied, a little half-heartedly. "I'm just a little tired is all, so I'm heading to bed."

"What did the prisoner want?" Inoue asked her as she turned to leave the room.

"Nothing important. I think Zero just wanted him to meet the best of us, that's all." Kallen replied with a shrug. "I'm sorry, guys, but I'm really tired."

"All right. Good night, Kallen." Inoue said, all the others calling out with various forms of 'good night' as Kallen turned to leave the kitchen and headed to her room. The fact that she was the ace pilot of the Black Knights allowed her certain liberties, the main one being her own room to sleep in, far away from the noise in the hangar and it had enough amenities in it .

Inside, she stripped off her uniform before tossing it to the floor, leaving her in just her underwear. Like she did when she was in her more stately home in the Settlement, Kallen removed her bra and slid under the covers after she had switched out her light. She buried her head in to her pillow as she tried to sleep.

But as she fell in to sleep's embrace, those three words kept repeating in her head.

"I forgive you."

* * *

 **AN: Holy shit, this took a long time to get done. Why did this take a long time to get done!?**

 **Well, I will tell you why. There was just soooo much planning and theory done for what could be said, what could be done. It was just... ugh, so frustrating. I don't know how many times I would bring up the Open Office page and just stare at the page as I just thought on what to say. Ugh. Well, it's done now. So that's all there is to it. Also,** **I would have posted this up earlier today, but unfortunately I got called in to work to cover someone's shift and I didn't get off until 5, so... there's that.**

 **Now for the subject matter. I will say this now: I do not like Zero. I hate him as a character. He's well-written, I will not give him that, but I absolutely detest revolutionaries in fictions. I don't think I actually need to say anything more since I've practically written down what I think of revolutionaries. Obviously, as Ciaran is put in to the Code Geass timeline when he is, and in the position he is, he obviously doesn't know about Lelouch's actual motives.**

 **And Kallen... again, it's what's written. In terms of a revolutionary movement, Zero missed such a fucking huge opportunity to use Kallen's half-Japanese/half-Britannian heritage to try and garner some support from the Japanese, and possibly even some more liberal Britannians in Area 11. But no. She's just used as a weapon solely, and I hate it!**

 **There's also the fact that because Clamp Studios did so little in the way of backstory for Britannian rule in Area 11, we don't know if there were any peaceful attempts at making the lot of the Japanese people better. We don't know if there was. We don't know if there were attempts by sympathetic Britannian politicians to try and give them some sort of concessions for the Japanese. We just don't know!**

 **I think, if anything else, this is just my hate for revolutions showing. I mean, as a student of history, if we look at historical revolutions, there has probably been only a handful of revolutions that have not resulted in the people who wanted freedom being controlled by a group of people who were exactly the same, or worse, as the people they other-threw. I named a few examples in the chapter. Also, whoever gets the connection to a certain TV program in the chapter, except for you-know-who (you know who you are), will get a digital cookie.**

 **As for Cornelia, well... how would you feel if you had lost so many important people but weren't able to show it because of your station in life? I mean, to all those who have watched Code Geass, you know how Cornelia reacted after what happened to Euphemia after the SAZ Massacre.**

 **So yeah, this chapter was a challenge for me. I hope I've lived up to your expectations for what I've been doing and what you expect of me, so please read, review, and most of all, enjoy.**


	17. Chapter 17

The day following the battle at Narita mountains, and Ciaran's first full day in captivity, dawned the same as it always had for the inhabitants of Area 11, both Britannian-born and Japanese-born; the darkness of night giving way to the soft orange hues of dawn as they revealed the pale blue of a morning sky.

If he had been able to, Gilbert P Guilford would have been able to appreciate it. He enjoyed the morning, the bespectacled Knight would readily admit. In the life he lead, acting as Cornelia's right hand man and her main bodyguard, he didn't get to enjoy it. He didn't often get to sit down in a nice chair, with a nice warm cup of coffee, black with two sugars, and just watch the sun rise. It always a nice moment.

Today was certainly not one of those days.

Standing in one of the large intelligence gathering rooms in the Viceroy's Palace, Guilford was overseeing what could only be described as a massive amount of data gathering as over fifty technicians sat at computers, combing over various CCTV footage from the hours following the battle of Narita. The combination of video and camera footage had been taken from the routes that the Black Knights had been expected to flee that area from. Originally, the routes had been designated as likely escape points for the JLF, but with the unexpected arrival of the other group of terrorists shifted their attention.

Even though the Princess had given him several hours sleep, he had awoken earlier to oversee the whole endeavour. He was never one to sound boastful, but he had always possessed a better eye for details. That's why he was put in charge of this endeavour.

So here he was, sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a brightly lit room, staring at a screen with nine different segments, each showing images and videos from nearly a hundred different cameras which changed every ten seconds in a far too much detail, while the backs of the heads of sixteen technicians were facing him.

Taking his glasses off his face, Guilford pinched the bridge of his nose as he cleaned the sleep that was in his eyes before letting out a yawn. Replacing the glasses on his nose, he then reached over and grasped the china coffee cup on the desk in front of him before bringing it up to his lips, taking an appreciative sip of the black liquid.

If there was one thing he could count on, the man mused to himself, was good coffee.

Looking at the digital display on the clock, he grimaced as he saw the time.

07:35

They'd been here for two hours now.

"Do we have anything yet?" He asked the room, not really caring who would answer him.

"Not yet, my lord." Someone replied, the only thing Guilford really noticing was that the voice was female.

He knew that the Princess and he were asking a lot from them, having to go through over twelve hours worth of footage from nearly a hundred different angles, for anything that look remotely suspicious.

"Have we had any luck trying to find vehicles similar to the ones that attack a Nagano?" Guilford asked, again not caring who answered.

"No luck so far, my lord." A man replied.

"Figures." The Knight said, slumping back further in his chair. Zero was smart, so there's no way that he would used the same type of vehicle twice. But there had to be give-aways to what type of vehicle they would be using.

Leaning forward, Guilford rested his arms on his knees and steepled his fingers as he began thinking. The vehicles would have to be large, large enough to hold either at least three Knightmares or over two dozen soldiers, if the numbers from Narita were anything to go by.

Standing up out of his chair, the Knight addressed the room. "All right, change of plans. We're not looking for the same vehicles from Nagano. Look for any large vehicles capable of carrying either several Knightmares or numerous soldiers. Military or industrial vehicles are our likeliest bet."

"Yes, my lord!" The room nearly resonated with the call as the technicians went to work, scanning through the images and videos.

Sitting back in his chair, Guilford allowed the ghost of a smile to come to his face as he picked up his coffee to take a drink. Even without the caffeine in his system, he suddenly felt energized.

Having purpose really did do a good job at sharpening the mind.

* * *

Michael Robertson hated the morning shifts. He hated them with a passion.

Getting up before the crack of dawn to do maintenance on the Knightmares and other vehicles, taking various bits apart and putting them back together to make sure they still worked.

It was fucking tedious.

Standing outside one of the side exits, leaning against the wall in the designated smoking areas, if anyone was watching him, they would see a tall, thickset man dressed in the orange overalls of the Palace engineers with close cropped hair and a severe scowl as he brought a cigarette up to his mouth before taking a long drag from the stick.

He had been one of the best in the Britannian Intelligence Agency, one of their best operators. He'd spied on people from the EU, the Chinese Federation, hell, even from Britannia herself. And when he'd been told that he would be working with a the specialist Section Nine, he was excited. Section Nine carried out all the major dirty work, the true cloak-and-dagger stuff.

And yet here he was. In Area 11, hanging around the Second Princess and her retinue, shadowing some young punk who wouldn't stick out in a crowd.

Now that guy had disappeared after an operation in the mountains near the Tokyo Settlement. The scuttlebutt was that he had been captured by the terrorist group that suddenly appeared at Narita.

Bullshit. He had probably just gotten lost, so he didn't really care.

The ringing and vibrating of his phone in his pocket got his attention. Blowing smoke out of his nostrils, Michael shifted the cigarette in his mouth to rest at the corner of his mouth before taking the phone out of his pocket and bringing it up to his ear.

"Robinson here." He said half-heartedly, not really caring who it was on the other side of the phone.

"It's V." The masked voice at the other end of the line said, jolting Michael to attention. He knew the voice had to be put through an enhancer of some form since the voice at the other end sounded something robotic but also... childish, at the same time. Michael did not like it one bit.

"I want a situation update, Agent Robinson."

Taking a moment to throw the cigarette out of his mouth, Michael followed the request. "Director. I've been tailing the boy as close as I can get for a month now, and have been in contact with the surveillance team."

"And?"

"We have not found any evidence that he is connected to CC or to the World of C, sir." Michael said with a hint of finality mixed with fear.

"Are you sure?" The voice asked in reply, not caring for the other man's words.

"I'm quite positive, sir."

"And my sources say that Target F has been taken captive by the Black Knights. Is this accurate?"

Michael swallowed audibly at the question. "It's... hard to say, sir. Princess Cornelia and her staff have not been very forthcoming with the answer, to her soldiers or the press, so I can't say whether that's definitively happened or not."

The voice on the other end didn't say anything in reply. Michael had to guess that the Director was thinking things over, although from the other end of the phone, the man was certain he could hear other voices quietly talking to each other.

"Agent Robinson?" The Director asked, catching the spies attention.

"Sir?"

"You are to stay in your post and keep watch on Target F. You will report if and when he returns to me, and you will step up your investigation in to whether or not he is connected to the World of C. Is that understood?"

"Understood, sir." Michael replied, doing his best to swallow his fear at the unspoken threat in The Director's words, thankful when the person at the other end of the line disconnected.

The spy let out a deep sigh as he pocketed his phone, leaning backwards fully against the wall behind him. He had never met The Director face to face, no-one had. But he terrified everyone. The rumours about him were many, ranging from him having his own private army to a task force of cyborg soldiers. No-one knew what was true about him, and frankly, no-one wanted to find out.

He was this mysterious figure who never showed their face, but always made his presence known, and always in the worst ways possible.

He was a monster, in the worst possible sense.

Reaching in to his pocket, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes, jostling one of them free from the packet, ready to use. Michael lifted it from the case and was ready to put it in to his mouth, the taste of the filter just brushing on to his lips, when the sound of a door opening caught his attention.

"Robertson!" His immediate superior, the blonde haired Technician Derek Matthews, called out to him, a look of annoyance on his face. "Your break finished three minutes ago. Let's get a move on!"

Opening his mouth to let out a retort, the only sound from Michael's mouth was a simple sigh as he dropped the cigarette and crushing it under his heel. He was not in the mood to argue.

"Right, sir. Coming now."

* * *

In one of the many classrooms at Ashford Academy, the teacher, a plump woman in her late forties, was droning on about chemistry, saying how some chemicals could be harmless in minute doses but lethal in large quantities.

Although to be honest, Lelouch was only half-listening. He had geassed the woman a few days ago to ask her what she would cover in the syllabus that would be important for the mid-term exams. It wasn't anything spectacular or difficult, the exiled Britannian prince definitely sure that he could easily pass the test. So it was only for courtesy's sake, he was anything if not a gentleman, that he made a show of paying attention by jotting down notes.

In actuality, Lelouch was thinking of ways to deal with his current situation. He knew he had several things to deal with:

The first was how to take advantage of Cornelia's losses after Narita. He wasn't sure on the exact number of losses, but from what he had seen, the loss of men and machines would have to substantial. Whether it would weaken his sister's hold in Area 11, Lelouch wasn't sure, so he would have to be more wary with that issue.

The second issue was Kyoto, the financial and material backer of all terrorists groups in Japan, which now meant they were the back of the Black Knights too. He knew that he couldn't say no to the group, especially if he wanted to keep the Japanese on his side. He set Inoue to the task of gathering intel on the group, especially it's members. If his suspicions were right, then he might be able to use his true identity as an advantage.

The third issue was that damn Captain Forsyth! Lelouch felt him grind his teeth at the memory of the man. Lelouch had been used to the self-righteous nature of those who served Britannia, but this man took the cake. That he, a member of the most oppressive military in the world and a follower of one of Britannia's most brutal commanders, had the nerve to lecture him on his actions.

"Hey, Lelouch." Rivalz's concerned voice preceded the blue haired youth waving a hand in front Lelouch's face, making him turn to look at his friend who wore a worried expression.

"You all right, buddy? It's a bit weird to see you look stuck." Rivalz whispered, trying to avoid their teacher's attention.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Lelouch replied, his voice lowered to the same pitch as his friend. "Just wanting to make sure I've got everything down right."

The sound of someone clearing their throat loudly drew the duos attention as, looking over to the front, they saw their teacher give a quick but stern look before returning back to her lecture. A small chorus of giggles came from a few of the girls before Lelouch simply drowned them out as he half-listened to the lecture and returned his mind back to the real issue at hand: how to deal with his captive.

His first course of action, Geassing him, was out of the question. Their first meeting had proven that that wasn't a course of action he could pursue.

Torture him? That was a possibility. It would definitely get the Captain to tell him what he knew about Cornelia's defences.

But there were problems to that, Lelouch lamented as he wrote down another series of chemical symbols on the paper in front of him. Cornelia would certainly not be happy if she found out that one of her officers had been tortured, so there would be a very high chance that she would step up operations against the Black Knights.

History was a very good indicator of how riled up Cornelia would get if someone took one of her toys.

So what could he do?

The sound of the bell ringing to mark the start of the lunch break caught his, and everyone else's, attention. Looking, Lelouch saw the teacher put her book away before she addressed the class, even as her students stood up and began packing away their supplies.

"All right, everyone. I'll see you next week. And remember to review chapters sixteen and seventeen for the midterms."

A chorus of "Yes, Miss Richards" came as a reply from the class as some of their number began leaving, Lelouch among them, the black-haired youth being trailed by his friend.

"Man, were you doing that thing where you sleep with your eyes open again? You know that creeps the crap out of me, Lelouch."

"Ah, sorry, Rivalz." Lelouch apologised, giving his friend a disarming smile. And he meant it too. Rivalz was nothing like the regular spawn that Britannia produced: kind-hearted, friendly, and just generally a nice person.

As they walked down the corridor to the student council's room, Lelouch found his troubles take a bit of a back-seat as he chatted with Rivalz about the midterms and waved off the lads attempts to get Lelouch to agree to let him cheat off him, for what had to the fourth time since the tests had been announced. It was a bit of a welcome reprieve but it definitely got Lelouch thinking on what Captain Forsyth.

" _But at least I'm not masquerading as something I'm not._ "

Lelouch knew that he hadn't meant him being a prince in exile. There were only two people... three people in Japan, Lelouch had to remind himself, that knew he was really an exiled Britannian prince. But even still, that single sentence shook him.

"Hey, Rivalz." He said to his companion, snapping the blue-haired youth out of his tirade on how friends should let friends copy their answers. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. What's up buddy?" Rivalz asked, looking at the taller boy in mild confusion.

"I've been thinking... where's Shirley?"

Rivalz looked around him in confusion at the question, not noticing the look of relief on his friend's face as Lelouch noted his classmates absence.

"I don't know. I remember Milly saying something that she wouldn't be here in the morning. Should we go ask her?"

Lelouch quickly nodded his head in reply as he followed Rivalz to the student council room. He still wasn't comfortable telling his friends about him really being a prince. Even just thinking about it brought him out in a cold sweat. There far too many outcomes for Lelouch to worry about, and he didn't want to risk loosing his friends.

The walk to the student council's room was all a bit of a blur, with Lelouch and Rivalz falling in to their same old routine of banter. Nearing the room, Lelouch couldn't help but feel that there was something odd in the air. For starters, the area was quiet, far quieter than normal.

Nearing the door, the duo became aware of muted conversation, a complete contrast to usually riotous cacophony of noise, which perturbed the pair. Pushing down on the door handle, Lelouch decided to treat the situation like plaster: get it done with as quickly as possible.

"Hey, guys what's..." Lelouch's words died in his throat at what he saw inside: Milly, Nina and Nunnally were gathered around a clearly distraught Shirley, her cheeks streaked with still wet tears and her eyes were red. "Shirley?"

"Ah, big brother. You wouldn't believe it." Nunnally said, turning her chair around and lifting her head to look up at where her brother's voice came from, her closed eyes somehow managing to lock on to Lelouch's own.

"Why? What's happened?" Rivalz asked, moving past the dumbstruck Lelouch to stand near the girls.

"Her dad was at Narita." Milly said sympathetically, not taking her eyes of her orange-haired friend as she continued rubbing a hand across her shoulders.

"He was killed?" Lelouch asked, somehow managing to keep the tone of surprise in his voice down at the news. Luckily for him, Shirley shook her head at the news, although her mood wasn't lightened by the news.

"No, he wasn't." She croaked out, her voice made hoarse by her crying. "He said he was ordered off the mountain by some soldiers. But, still I... I..."

Shirley's words got cut off mid-sentence as she quickly pushed herself up from her chair, her quick action shocking Milly and Nina as she weaved past Rivalz and Nunnally and straight towards Lelouch. Before he had a chance to react, the black-haired teenager found himself captured in a tight embrace from Shirley.

Looking up from the bawling Shirley, Lelouch expected to see all of his friends sniggering or to hear Milly make a snide joke about his current predicament. If was able to, he'd have relished in what he saw: Milly's face was forlorn as she watched the scene unfold, and Rivalz and Nina refused to look up from their feet at the display. The only positive look that he was getting was the look of sympathy that he was getting from Nunnally. It wasn't obvious to see from the blind girl's face, but it was there.

Unsure of what to do, Lelouch did the only thing he could do, and let Shirley continue to hug him as she cried on to his shoulder.

Outwardly, he was still the same calm, if a bit confused, self he always was. But inside, his mind was going a mile a minute. He had always known that his actions would draw civilians in to the fires, but... but he hadn't thought on who those civilians would be.

He had only met Joseph Fenette a few times, but he had always struck Lelouch as a genuinely nice man. He was kind hearted, friendly to everyone, and from his meetings, Lelouch didn't have any inklings that the man followed Britannia's line of thinking.

And to see Shirley this upset...

"Hey, guys. Wha... what's going on?" Suzaku's voice drew everyone's attention, the Japanese youth entering the room, obviously surprised at the scene before him.

"Hey, Suzaku. Did you hear about what happened at Narita?" Rivalz asked, managing to stop himself from sounding too exited about what happened.

"Yeah, I heard." The teenager admitted as he moved to stand near his friends, looking at Lelouch and Shirley's embrace in understandable confusion. "Cornelia tried to go after the Japanese Liberation Front, then the Black Knights hit too. Apparently they brought down a part of the mountain."

"Yeah. Well, it turns out that Shirley's dad was in the area when it happened." Milly finished the news for him.

Suzaku's green eyes opened wide in shock, his face taking on a hint of red as he became angry. "What? Was he...?"

A quick shake of Shirley's head dissipated the anger somewhat, as he let out a relieved sigh. "I'm glad to hear it."

Lelouch was about to say something when he felt the phone in his pocket vibrate, the tinny sound of his chosen ringtone telling him who was phoning him.

"Who's that, brother?" Nunnally asked sweetly, her ears picking up the sound of the phone before Lelouch pulled the musical device out of his pocket.

"It's something important I need to take care of." He made to move away but found himself held tightly by Shirley. "Shirley, I'm really sorry about this but I have to take this phone-call."

"Oh, come on, Lulu." Milly huffed, pouting at the exiled prince's words. "You have to do that now?"

"No, it's all right, Milly." Shirley said, sniffling gently as she lessened her grip on Lelouch. "I just... I just needed to do that. I..."

"I understand." Lelouch said with a soft smile. He knew the feeling, far too well. "This is really an important call, but I'll be back as quickly as I can. Okay?"

A nod of Shirley's head told him it was okay as she moved to take her seat again amongst her friends, which Lelouch took as his cue to leave. Without another word, except a quick wave, he left the room, moving as quick as he could to somewhere he could take the call in private. It took some walking and avoidance of other students and faculty before he found it; an empty staircase which led to the upper levels of Ashford Academy.

When he was sure he was alone, he flipped open his phone and answered the caller. "Q-One. What's the situation?"

The voice of his classmate, ace pilot and, possibly, his most fervent follower, Kallen, came in reply.

"Zero. We've just got confirmation that the video has been delivered to the couriers and is on it's way."

"Very good. Anything else?"

Silence filled the air for a few moments before Kallen spoke. "Zero... everyone's getting a bit restless with this guy around. He pestered his guards to give something to do to stop him getting bored, and some of the guys are getting worried he might try something."

"Try something?" Lelouch asked, confused by her line of reasoning.

"Like he'll try to escape or something. Inoue's gotten a few of us think that he's from a special operations unit or something, and that's gotten them worried."

"I see." The student-slash-terrorist said. He had to admit that Captain Forsyth was something of a loose end, and it did worry him a bit.

"So what are we going to do?"

Lelouch was silent in thought as he went through possible scenarios to follow, but so many of them were things he could not do if he wanted to keep Cornelia away from his throat for a period of time.

"Also," Kallen's voice interrupted his thoughts again. "What's with this girl with green hair hanging around? She's been sitting in the kitchen area for half an hour now and it's creeping some of us."

"Girl with green...?" C.C.!

' _Oh, that damn witch!_ ' Lelouch seethed to himself. He knew she had disappeared again, doing God knows what, but for her to turn up at the Black Knight's warehouse? Why? Why did she have to be there? Where a member of the...

Lelouch stopped himself from getting angry as a thought popped in to his head.

"Q-One, listen to me closely. That person is to be allowed to see the Captain, at a time of her choosing. Understand?"

"Is she an interrogator?" Kallen asked, confused by the idea.

"In a sorts. Just let her go about her business. Understand?"

"All right, Zero. If you say so."

"Anything else?" Lelouch asked.

"No. No, there's nothing else."

"All right then. Goodbye, Q-One." Lelouch said, pressing the disconnect button on the phone before pocketing the device. When he felt the phone settle in his pocket, he leant back to let his shoulders rest against the stonework, letting out a sigh.

* * *

Sitting at the desk facing the door, Ciaran was trying to make the best of a bad situation for himself. He had to admit that the Black Knights were genuinely helping in that respect. Not by much though. They had given him a newspaper and a pen to pass the time, after a lot of pestering from Ciaran, but that was about it. He'd have been pleased with the gift if it wasn't for the fact that the paper was a tabloid rag that only seemed to cover the 'achievements' of celebs he hadn't heard about, literally, or remotely cared about.

However, the situation wasn't helped by his lack of sleep, since he felt as haggard as he felt. It wasn't the fact that the couch was uncomfortable, which it was. He just wasn't able to fall asleep. It wasn't from paranoia. Even if he was an admittedly heavy sleeper, the Briton knew that there was very little chance of any of the Black Knights sneaking up on him with the noise the door to the office created.

He was beginning to worry about the Princesses, the two people who agreed to be his adoptive family. He had disappeared without a trace and a word, just like his entry in to this world. He didn't want to think about what Cornelia and Euphemia were going through, especially Euphemia. She and Ciaran had gotten close, and even to imagine what she must be going through...

It didn't fill him with any sort of joy.

And then there were his parents. What would they think of this whole situation? Taken in by a military commander-slash-royal princess, placed in the military, taking part in two combat operations and being captured to boot? God, his mum would have a heart attack.

The noise of the door creaking loudly open drew him out of his melancholy thoughts as, looking up, he saw one of the Black Knights push open the door to let someone in. At first, he had expected either Zero or possibly the woman named Inoue, so it was definitely a bit of a shock to see the woman who had come in. She was a couple of inches shorter than Ciaran, with long, lime-green hair that went past her shoulder and golden eyes, and he had to guess her age as being somewhere around late-teens. That wouldn't have surprised him, if it wasn't for the fact that she was wearing what could only be described as a straitjacket, with long-flowing sleeves and wide trousers bottoms.

Out of all of the people Ciaran had met so far, she was definitely the oddest looking person. And the first impression was not helped by the pizza box she was holding in her hands.

"Hello, Captain Forsyth." The mystery woman said flatly as she walked further in to the office, her steps showing that she gave hardly a care to the man in front of her. When she reached the pair of desks, she put the box on to the surface-top with little ceremony before opening it.

Now, Ciaran's reaction was anything but voluntary. He was only human after all and he was hungry, so it was no surprise that when he saw the contents of the box, his mouth opened slightly and the tiniest sliver of drool escaped from his lips.

"Is that a...?" He asked hesitantly, not taking his eyes off of the food presented to him.

"Meat-lovers pizza with barbecue sauce and thick crust pizza stuffed with cheese." The mystery woman said, her voice having just the littlest hint of relish in it, although whether it was from his reaction or the food itself, he couldn't tell. Not that that he really cared when he saw what had to be the most enticing pizza in front of him.

However, a part of his brain reminded him that he was British thoroughly beat the more animalistic part of his brain heavily, forcing Ciaran's mouth to snap shut and make him wipe the drool from his mouth with the back of his hand in an attempt to regain some small measure of composure.

"Umm... May I?" Ciaran asked sheepishly, gesturing to the pizza.

"If you want." The woman said flippantly, shrugging non-committally as she herself reached in to the open box and took out one of the slices, Ciaran watching in rapt attention as the strings of cheese and barbecue sauce stretched to breaking point as she lifted the slice to her mouth.

Not wasting time, Ciaran managed to hold himself back from simply lunging towards the box before him and taking out the slice closest to him. Bringing the food to his own mouth, he glanced over at the woman who was clearly savouring her part of the meal, before taking a bite out of the slice of pizza in his hand. It was only then that he realized what organization the woman near him belonged to.

"So what's the plan, pizza girl?" He asked with a mouthful of pizza, trying his best not to let the brilliant mix of flavours distract him. "You taking the 'pet the dog' routine of questioning? Give me some food, get me talking on my hobbies, whatever, then get me to spill what information Zero wants?"

"Nope." The woman (or possibly girl. He honestly couldn't quite tell) simply said with her mouth full as she moved to sit in the chair across from him. "I just want to enjoy my pizza in someplace quiet, and I can't go to my usual place. So... here I am."

Ciaran couldn't find any fault with her logic, her tone not giving away any hint that she was lying. Not that he really cared since he was getting a free pizza out of the whole deal. He and his mysterious companion sat in silence, the only sound being the noises of the two of them eating their pieces of food.

Partway through his third slice, Ciaran remembered that he hadn't asked his companion her name. Looking up from his food, he expected to see the girl in her chair. Instead, she was standing directly beside him, no less than an arms reach away from him. Her face was still the same blank mask that it was when she walked it, but something about here eyes put Ciaran in a state of unease.

As she raised her left hand up, the slice of pizza fell out of Ciaran's hand and on to the table as his hand shot out to grab the nearest thing to a weapon he had. As soon as he felt his fingers grip around the pen, he swung his arm in an arc, the tip held ready to stab the person in front of him.

A tight grip on his left wrist stopped his progress as the mysterious girl grabbed him, showing an amount of strength that he did not expect. Ciaran tried to fight against the grip, but the next move threw all of that out the window as the girl's left hand suddenly shot forward, her fingers taking a tight grip on his forehead as she stared at him with a look of absolute concentration. Ciaran's makeshift weapon clattered to the floor.

Ciaran's mind was going a mile a minute trying to process what was going on: he was being a restrained by a woman who obviously had more strength then he had, so to say he was a little bit of afraid of her would be an understatement. But he also incredibly confused too. The pressure she was exerting on his head was nowhere near painful, just enough to keep his head still while she did whatever she planned to do.

There was no hint of anger in her eyes, nor enjoyment at what she was doing to him. The look on her face a look of concentration, like he was complex book.

They stayed like that for sometime, neither of them making a move. It took Ciaran by surprise when the mysterious girl's face shifted to look of surprise, the ghost of a smile playing on her face as she removed her hands, letting Ciaran's arm drop down.

"Well, now that's certainly different..." The green-haired girl said in quiet amazement as she moved to sit back down at her chair. As she was taking her seat, Ciaran's hands shot up to touch his forehead, checking to see if she had done anything to him that he hadn't felt. His fingers brushing over the skin on his head, he let out a quiet sigh of relief when he realised that nothing had happened to his head.

"What, what did you do?" He ask quickly, looking at the girl across from him.

"Nothing." She replied flippantly, returning to her pizza. "Besides: I doubt you'd believe me if I told you."

"Tell me what you did to me!" Ciaran ordered, trying his best to sound calm at the situation he had just gone through.

"I just read your mind. Or tried to, anyway." His partner said simply, saying it like it was the most mundane thing in the world. Ciaran felt his jaw drop slightly at the girl's words, which seemed to draw some amusement from the girl in front of him. "Told you you wouldn't believe me."

Closing his mouth, Ciaran fixed the girl with glare, trying to figure out if she was lying or not. She didn't give any response to his look, only continuing to munch quietly on her pizza.

"Zero's got some right nut-jobs working for him..." He muttered quietly to himself as he turned back to his desk and the slice of pizza that had fallen on to the newspaper, thankfully landing cheese side up, picking it off the newspaper before looking at the strange girl. "How did you get drawn in to this whole thing, then?"

"Zero and I have a contract."

' _A mercenary? That figures._ ' Ciaran thought to himself, returning to his meal.

"So why is a Briton fighting for a Britannian Princess? The Second Princess at that." The girl said, plucking the question out of thin air.

Ciaran had already told the story he had made up to Kallen, but he had no desire to tell it to this stranger, especially if she was a mercenary. You don't trust those who fight simply for money.

"It was the best solution to a shitty situation. That's all I'll say on the matter."

The woman simply shrugged as she returned to eating her food. Both occupants of the room fell in to silence as they ate their food, Ciaran not taking his eyes off the stranger across from him for too long, although he had no hesitancy in reaching across to take another slice of pizza.

When they had both finished the meal, Ciaran expected the girl to leave him alone, her business finished with. What he did not expect was for her to cross her arms on the desktop and rest her chin against her arms as she stared at the man across from her.

"So why did you join the army then? Surely you'd have been able to get away with any other job you'd want if you've got Princess Cornelia in your pocket."

"I don't..." Ciaran started, taken aback by the comment. "I do not have Cornelia in my pocket. If anything I'm in hers."

The girl just stared at him, her golden eyes not leaving him for a moment, so Ciaran decided to continue with a sigh.

"It's a safe business to be in. Financially, I mean. There will always be a need for soldiers, no matter what anyone thinks. Plus, I do believe that me being a soldier is the only way I can repay the Princess and her staff for helping me out."

"So the only way you can pay them back is by taking another persons life?" The girl said simply, taking Ciaran back by the question.

"Well, if you want to be that blasé about it, then... yeah. You can't be a soldier if you don't take a life. That's kind of the definition of a soldier. But soldiers do more than simply killing people."

"True." The stranger said with a nod, as she lifted her head to rest her chin on her right hand. She didn't say anything else, just staring at him, which Ciaran took as an invitation to continue.

"I've wanted to join the armed forces for a while, so I won't say that I didn't jump at the chance when General Darlton offered it to me. Although I won't say that I'm not beginning to slightly regret it a bit now."

"What do you mean?" The girl asked, looking at him in confusion.

At her words, an image of the man he had killed flashed across Ciaran's mind's eye. The first life he had taken, the first man he had killed came across his mind.

"I don't want to talk about it." He replied curtly, shifting his posture so he wouldn't have to look at his companion, staring off at the boarded up window to his left.

"You've obviously killed someone. I've seen it before, I know the look." The girl said, sounding just a bit more sympathetic than before. "If it troubles you, then why are you a soldier? I can't help but notice the irony that soldiers, people who are meant to protect a country, end up doing more killing than protecting."

Ciaran turned his head to look at the girl, an irritated look on his face as she continued speaking.

"Well, it's always been the same. Those who say that they are meant to protect the people end killing people more than protecting them. The chivalric knights did it."

"Knights were bullies," Ciaran countered, squinting his eyes slightly. "Tell a man who's a member of the aristocracy he's the protector of the people and he's bound to abuse it. That's also the reason why the police here has such a problem with corruption. If you tell a person that they're above the common man, you'll always get trouble."

"Is that not what happens in the army?" The green-haired girl asked.

"Well, yeah, sometimes. It depends on the commander." Ciaran conceded, remembering all the times he'd seen, on TV and the internet at least, of soldiers who had acted superior to civilians. "But myself and Darlton don't share that view. We are just regular men and women forced in to... to put it bluntly, irregular situations and we are trained to come out on top."

The girl didn't respond with anything except a raised eyebrow before she spoke. "That's an odd way to interpret it."

"It's not an interpretation, it's a fact. Take myself for example: pretty average upbringing, less than stellar performance in school, but put me in a boot camp, and I'm given the same chance as pretty much any man or woman who joins. The army takes the unequal and makes them equal. Which is a bit ironic considering how Britannia operates."

"So you don't believe in inequality?" The girl asked him, interested in his line of reasoning.

"Oh, no. Inequality is a rule, if not _the_ rule of nature." Ciaran replied." No two things have an equal chance on this world. Not a leaf or a tree. If nature was equal, then all life would become extinct. But that inequality, the thing Britannia preaches, can be a good thing. It allows those who do not have to aspire to greater things, to learn to better themselves. A man can train himself to be a better runner, or a woman can train herself to be a better actor. It's all down to the person and whether he's willing to bring himself to the same level as those who look down on him."

The mysterious girl could only blink in confusion at his words. "That's... that's a novel way of looking at it, I suppose."

"Eh, social-Darwinism's a crock of shit anyway." Ciaran said, waving a hand at her comment as if he was batting an irritating fly. "The man who thought you could apply a scientific concept to politics should have been hit over the head repeatedly with a copy of On The Origin of Species, and then made to read it."

It brought a measure of satisfaction to the young Briton that his idea brought a small smile to his companion's face, but it quickly faded as she spoke again.

"So you think that conflict, the spilling of blood is a good thing, then?"

Ciaran narrowed his eyes at her words.

"No. I hate it, just as any rational man would." His voice became icy as he spoke. "War destroys countries, breaks cities, tears families and lives apart, and leaves men hollow shells of what they once were."

He turned his body fully to look at her, resting his arms on the desk top.

"I deplore any man who willingly starts a war and claims it's a good thing. The only _good_ wars," Ciaran did everything he could possible to stress the word 'good'. "Are those fought in the defence of a nation's people."

The room fell in to silence, it's occupants looking intently at the other, each one waiting to see who would speak first.

With a soft squeak, the stranger pusher her chair back and stood up.

"Well. That was certainly an interesting lunch. Thank you, Captain."

It was in no small words that Ciaran was surprised by her words. He had expected her to say something to continue the conversation. Maybe challenge his views, call him a fool, at best, or pathetically optimistic at worst. But for her to not say a word against them... it was an odd feeling.

He didn't say anything as he watched the stranger turn to leave. As she raised her hand to knock on the door, she stopped herself to turn around and face Ciaran.

"One question: if I said that I could give you the power to control those in the world, to make war a thing of the past... would you take it?"

Ciaran had to stop and think about it.

Power to control the world... power that he knew would corrupt him, manipulate him in to doing awful things.

"Not a fucking chance." He said flatly looking her in the eyes when he said it.

The girl nodded her head, more in acceptance than agreement, before she turned to the door and knocked on the metal, stepping back as the door opened with a loud screech. Before she stepped through the threshold, the stranger turned and looked at Ciaran, a thin, sympathetic smile on her face.

"I honestly hope that conviction of yours doesn't come back to bite you."

Ciaran merely replied with a shrug. "We'll see."

Without another word, the girl turned around with a small swirl of her hair and left the room, the large door closing behind her with the same _clang_ as it always did. Shaking his head, Ciaran returned to his newspaper.

"Mad woman..."

* * *

Inside Cornelia's office, the Second Princess was the picture of quiet fury. She was seated with her left arm resting on her desk, her right arm held up straight as she twirled a pen in her fingers. Her figure was as tense as a spring as she looked over the various files in front of her.

All of them were intelligence reports, fifteen in all, all gathered by her intelligence agency in less than ten hours. It was testament to the power that she wielded as a Britannian princess that she could get the information so quickly, Guilford, standing at his customary place at the side of the Second Princess' desk, noted as he watched his Princess circle a number of notes on one piece of paper before shifting it aside to look at another sheet.

It was unfortunate that none of the information that she was looking at was of any definitive use. Guilford knew that there was no reliable information on what the transports used by the Black Knights looked like, and since the group escaped in to the rush hour traffic, trying to find them was like trying to find a needle in a hay stack. Even if they did send their forces to follow every single truck that existed in Area 11, they'd be doing more harm than good in their search for the missing Captain.

"What shall we do, your Highness?" Guilford asked after spending a few seconds quietly watching Cornelia work.

The lavender-haired princess didn't respond immediately, continuing to pour over the papers in front of her before she spoke. "I don't know, Guilford. I don't know. Has any news been sent to the Homeland about this?"

"No, your Highness. At least not yet." Guilford knew what she was referring to. They had managed to block any news about the débâcle at Narita reaching the Homeland before they managed to tweak it to appease the big-wigs back in Pendragon, but they were unsure whether or not any news about Captain Forsyth's capture would be leaked to Pendragon. If it were leaked, Cornelia would be put in a very compromising situation.

Her father, for all of his talk that his children should handle their own affairs, did not look kindly on failure.

A short series of heavy knocks on the door caught the bespectacled Knight's attention.

"I imagine that's Darlton." Cornelia said, her attention turned back to the papers before her.

Bowing at the unspoken command, Guilford moved to the door, his long legs easily carrying him quickly over the distance. When he reached the door, he had no sooner put his hand on to the door-handle before the door was violently swung inwards. It was only due to Guilford's highly trained reflexes that he jumped backwards in time to avoid getting several pounds worth of oak slammed in to his face as Darlton stormed in.

"General Darlton?" Cornelia called out, looking up angrily at the scarred general as he walked in, something clutched in one of his hands, Guilford following quickly behind him. "What is the meaning of this?"

"You need to see this, Princess." Darlton said, holding up his left hand to show her what he was carrying: a thin brown envelope, unmarked except for a stamp that said 'For Princess Cornelia li Britannia.'

"Where did you get this, General?" Guilford asked as he looked at the package in confusion.

"A courier brought it to the Palace. He couldn't say who it came from as it was delivered to their office's anonymously." Darlton replied. "Security's had a look at it, before you ask, Gil. It's not a bomb. It's something much more interesting."

"What is it then?" Cornelia asked, sitting back in her chair, her interest piqued.

"I think it best if we get Princess Euphemia in here, your Highness." Darlton said by way of a reply as he moved to one of the cabinets set against a side wall, opening the small set of doors to reveal a small television set with a built-in DVD player. "And Nonette and Dorothea too. I think they should be made aware of what's happening."

Guilford looked at Cornelia, who simply had her mouth open slightly at the General's attitude, before closing her mouth and nodding at her Knight, silently telling him to do it, which he did with a bow of his head.

Moving quickly, Guilford practically ran to the places he knew that Third Princess and the visiting Knights of the Round. His first visit to Euphemia's office proved the most successful, yielding Nonette and Dorothea engaged with a sullen looking Third Princess, each with a cup of tea in their hand. The trio looked up as Guilford entered the room, not bothering to knock on the door.

"Lord Guilford?" The pink-haired princess asked, taken by surprise by the sudden entry. "That was a bit rude."

"I know, your Highness. And I cannot apologise enough, but I had to. Your sister wants all of us to gather in her office."

"All of us?" Nonette asked, surprised by the Knight's words. "Did she say what for?"

"My lady, I have just as little idea as you do." Guilford admitted.

Without much further prompting, the female trio followed the Knight at a quick pace as they made their way back to Cornelia's office, Guilford slowing his pace both to keep himself from exerting himself to much and also to allow Euphemia, dressed in one of her large frilly dresses, from falling too far behind. None of them asked any questions since they were all in the dark as each other about the situation.

Not bothering to knock, Guilford pushed open the door to Cornelia's office before stepping aside to let the trio of ladies through, shutting the door when they had entered. Inside, Cornelia still retained her seated position, a pen still held in her fingers, now with her attention fully on Darlton as he stood near the television-cum-DVD player. In the time that the Knight had been gone, the scarred general had opened the package revealing a small CD case with an unmarked CD in it.

"Nellie, what's going on?" Nonette asked, looking between Cornelia and Darlton expecting one of them to answer.

Ignoring her much loathed nickname, Cornelia merely motioned towards the General. "Play the CD, Darlton."

Not saying a word, the tall man opened the cassette player and inserted the CD, going through the motions of pressing play as the group moved in to a better position to see the TV screen.

With a burst of static and the whirr of the machine reading the disc, the screen came to life, revealing what appeared to be the interior of an industrial storage room, seeming to be lit by only a single neon light on the ceiling. In the middle of the camera, stood a man wearing an ornate mask that covered his entire head his whole body wrapped in a large cloak. Behind him stood two people dressed in black uniforms, each one holding a submachine gun, pointing them at something behind the back of the man in black.

"Zero..." Cornelia hissed out, tightening the grip on her pen.

As if in answer, the masked terrorist spoke. "Greetings to you, Viceroy Cornelia. I'm truly sorry that our meeting at Narita had been interrupted the way it had, but I assure you that it won't put a damper on my spirits."

Glancing over, Guilford saw Cornelia's eyes squint in anger at the man's insolent tone.

"Now, to the matter at hand. I do believe that you have lost something."

Without another word, Zero moved to the side, revealing what the armed guards were pointing their weapons at: it was a man in his early twenties, with dark brown curly hair, dressed in a dark green pilot suit, seated on a chair with his arms evidently tied behind his back.

Euphemia let out a sharp gasp, her hands coming up to her mouth in shock, while Nonette's and Dorothea's eyes merely opened in shock. Darlton didn't give any outward expression, merely a tensing of his jaw. The strongest reaction that Guilford saw, which was also the quietest, came from Princess Cornelia.

She didn't say anything, her eyes opening wide in shock just as her fingers closed tightly around the pen in her hand, the resulting pressure snapping the pen clean in half as her grip ruptured the ink cartridge inside, letting the blue-black liquid to spill down the fingers of her gloves.

* * *

 **AN: First things first, and I'm writing this to remind myself: When I do the gap between writing chapters, make them larger! From now on, I am going to do this as a monthly story. Hopefully bi-monthly, but most definitely monthly. Although, doing Christmas shopping, preparing for Christmas and working in one of the biggest retailers in the UK at Christmas time doesn't help.**

 **That out of the way: Chapter 17 is up. And it's another bloody cliffhanger! AHAHA! Blame mrthischarmingman2 for giving me the idea. c: But yeah, since I set myself too small a time frame for writing, I was not able to do as good a job as I have done in the past with this chapter. And after getting so many good reviews for Chapter 16! Gah!**

 **Still, I managed to get some things I wanted to cover with this chapter. Namely, Ciaran finally meeting CC, the mysterious group trailing Ciaran (who really shouldn't be that much of a secret considering the universe) and the fact that Joseph Fenette survived Narita, which is something that would chance the story a fair bit, when you think about it.**

 **So that's it. Again, read, enjoy (if you're able to) and review.**

 **Have a merry Christmas, a happy holidays and good New Year and most of all: be safe! See you after the new year.**


	18. Chapter 18

"Zero..." Cornelia hissed out, tightening the grip on her pen.

As if in answer, the masked terrorist on the screen spoke. "Greetings to you, Viceroy Cornelia. I'm truly sorry that our meeting at Narita had been interrupted the way it had, but I assure you that it won't put a damper on my spirits."

Glancing over, Guilford saw Cornelia's eyes squint in anger at the man's insolent tone.

"Now, to the matter at hand. I do believe that you have lost something."

Without another word, Zero moved to the side, revealing what the armed guards were pointing their weapons at: it was a man in his early twenties, with dark brown curly hair, dressed in a dark green pilot suit, seated on a chair with his arms evidently tied behind his back.

Euphemia let out a sharp gasp, her hands coming up to her mouth in shock, while Nonette's and Dorothea's eyes merely opened in shock. Darlton didn't give any outward expression, merely a tensing of his jaw, while Guilford just scowled at the screen. The strongest reaction in room, which was also the quietest, came from Princess Cornelia.

She didn't say anything, her eyes opening wide in shock just as her fingers closed tightly around the pen in her hand, the resulting pressure snapping the pen clean in half as her grip ruptured the ink cartridge inside, letting the blue-black liquid to spill down the fingers of her gloves.

The masked man on the screen moved his body to the side, moving a hand to gesture to the captive man, presenting him like he was some sort of prize pet.

"Yes, Viceroy. I present to you; Captain Ciaran Forsyth, late of the Royal Guard of the Second Princess. Captured at the Narita mountains and held captive by yours truly."

Cornelia could only stare incredulously at the image on the screen. Ciaran appeared to be well, although his head wasn't tilted up for the camera to see. From the angle of sight, she could see that he had a nasty gash on the left side of his forehead which had been bandaged, but without actually seeing the injury in detail, she couldn't tell how serious it was.

"I doubt you will believe me," Zero continued, walking to stand near his captive. "But he has been treated well, I can assure you. Isn't that right, Captain?"

The last sentence was reinforced by Zero putting a hand on Ciaran's right shoulder, causing the young man's head to snap up in shock. Cornelia was certain she would have ended up grinding her teeth in anger if it wasn't for the confused snort he made.

"Hey? Huh, what?" The young man asked in a confused daze, as he looked around the room he was in before he looked straight at the camera as he realized what was going on. "Oh. Yeah, we're doing the ransom video."

The tension in the room suddenly dissipated as they saw that Ciaran was unharmed and very much alive, having only been napping. Cornelia let a ghost of a smile play on her lips before it fell as she saw Ciaran's eyes. The circles under his eyes had deepened slightly, but other than he seemed as lively as usual.

"Hello, Viceroy," Ciaran said, half-heartedly reciting a speech he had obviously been given. "As Zero says, I am fine and have been well-treated. I received the gash on my head when I was captured, it was not sustained during my captivity."

"Regretfully, we do not possess the facilities to treat his head wound." Zero stated, not sounding the little bit remorseful. "So we don't know if he has suffered any brain damage or not-"

"Brain damage?!" Ciaran called out, managing to sit up bolt upright, a look of confusion mixed with fear on his face, catching the two Black Knights guarding him by surprise. The news took nearly everyone in Cornelia's office by surprise too.

"Being whacked in the head can give you brain damage?" Nonette asked, looking around the room quizzically before she was shushed by Dorothea.

"Anyway," Zero continued, ignoring Ciaran's questioning look. "I have decided that keeping your warhound around is simply too much hassle for me and my group."

"Warhound?" Darlton asked, a small smile replacing his stern anger from before as he looked at Cornelia.

"Therefore, your Highness, I propose a trade: I will gladly return Captain Forsyth to you, in exchange for a seven day ceasefire."

"What?!" Cornelia roared out, surging forward from her chair to stand up. The volume of her voice only took Euphemia by surprise, the young princess flinching at the volume of her older sister's voice while everyone else remained fixed on the screen, and the news that the masked man had just delivered.

"I can easily imagine how annoyed you must be my simple request, and I'm not surprise really. To ask of the Princess such a thing is... unthinkable."

Zero walked back to stand in front of Ciaran again, blocking the camera's, and everyone else's view, of the young Briton, prompting a small curse from the young Briton.

"Tosser..."

"You cannot deny, however, the simple fact that Narita severely depleted your current forces. You are not in a good position to consider yourself in strength to maintain control over Area 11. You know this, as do I."

"Jammy bastard..." Nonette muttered as Zero continued his speech.

"But I am nothing if not generous, so along with Captain Forsyth, I swear that the Black Knights will not take any action against you and your regime for an entire week."

The office fell in to silence again as all present took in the news. No-one in the room, Cornelia foremost among them, could question the fact that after the disaster at Narita, the number of Britannian forces in Area 11 had been heavily mauled and the only way to raise the numbers without having to rely on Honorary Britannians would be to put in requests for reinforcements from the Homeland would take least seventy-two hours to get a hold of and transported to Area 11.

"If you agree to my terms," The masked man said, placing his hands behind his back once again. "Then you will send Princess Euphemia and one bodyguard down to the Yokohama docks, tonight at nine, with a hand written document agreeing to the ceasefire. For your own benefit, I will allow you to forego any press release. We wouldn't want you looking bad now, would we?"

Turning around, Zero moved to give the camera a view of Ciaran, a contemptuous scowl plain on the captive man's face.

"Any words to say, Captain?"

For a few seconds, Ciaran simply stared at Zero before he turned his head to look at the camera and, it seemed to her, to look directly at Cornelia.

"Not really, no."

"Very well then." Zero said, stepping to the side to let himself and Ciaran be in the same shot. "I'll see you tonight at the Yokohama Docks then. Don't be late."

And with that, blue filled the TV screen as the DVD finished, leaving the room to fall in to silence, none of the people inside sure of what to say about the situation.

"Cornelia..." Euphemia said, as she turned her gaze from the screen to look at her older sister, everyone else copying her move.

"Well, we can't go through with it." Guilford spoke up, earning a hostile glare from Darlton.

"What the hell, Gil? Are you saying that we should just leave Ciaran with those bastards?" The scarred general said, scowling at the Knight.

"Of course I'm not saying that, General-"

"Are you sure, Guilford?" Nonette interrupted him, adding her own glower. "Because it sure as hell sounds like it to me."

"But what if news of this gets out, Lady Enneagram?" Guilford countered, ignoring the looks of hostility directed at him. "Or what if, and this is a very likely possibility I might add, Zero decides to not go through with this deal? What if he's simply using this meeting as an excuse to capture a member of the Royal Family?"

No-one said anything against the Knight's logic. Cornelia least of all. Although for the moment, she was preoccupied with removing her ink stained glove, dumping the formerly pristine garment in to the bin besides her desk as Guilford continued talking before doing the same to her other glove.

"I like Ciaran. He's an intelligent young man and a good soldier, but for his sake and the sake of Princess Euphemia, I cannot agree with this course of action!"

"How can you say that?" Dorothea replied, shock plain on her face. "We would do everything we could to rescue any other member of the army. Why can't we do the same for Ciaran?"

"Lady Ernst, if we knew where he was, I would gladly join the mission to rescue him. But think about it logically: we have no clue where he is, what forces the Black Knights have and all the other variables that would be in place for a rescue operation. If we get any of those things wrong, then we run a very big risk of Ciaran... loosing his life."

Even though he had tried to broach the issue as softly as he could, Guilford's words still hit everyone hard. What he said was the truth, however. None of their efforts in finding the Black Knights' transports and their hideout were successful and it would take too much time and effort to try and locate him on the ground.

The soft voice of Princess Euphemia caught everyone's attention.

"I'll do it." The young princess said, a stern look on her usually friendly face.

"Wha... what are you talking about, Euphie?" Cornelia asked, looking at her sister in shock, everyone else in the room echoing her look of shock.

"My friend is in trouble," Euphemia said sternly. "How could I live with myself if I abandoned him? Also, didn't you once say that a good leader never abandons those in need if they can help it?"

The pink haired princess crossed her arms in triumph, a small smile on her face as Cornelia realised what her younger sister had said was true. Although she didn't want to make a point that she had referred to military operations rather than just politics in general.

'But,' Cornelia thought to herself, 'This is a military operation, isn't it?'

"Can you trust Zero to go through with this though, Princess Euphemia?" Guilford asked, still playing the role of the ever protective knight.

"At Lake Kawaguchi, Zero had me at gunpoint, but he didn't shoot me." Euphemia replied, a wry smile on her face. "I doubt that he would try anything now. Let alone if I show up with a bodyguard."

Cornelia nodded at her younger sister's words. While it was true that Zero hadn't tried to assassinate Euphie at Lake Kawaguchi, it didn't mean that that the bastard wouldn't try anything this time.

But from what Euphemia had told her sister, Zero had gotten her alone at the hotel. And this time around, Zero was saying that the young princess would be allowed to bring a bodyguard.

"If you were to go," Cornelia asked, looking at her sister sternly. "Who would you take with you?"

All eyes fell on Euphemia as the young Princess mulled the question over. Looking at her, Cornelia saw her sister's eyes fall on virtually everyone in the room with the exception of herself. She didn't try to fight the frown that came to her face when Euphemia gave her suspicion.

"I'm not sure." Euphemia said half-heartedly, a guilty look crossing her face.

The sudden burst of laughter from Nonette that filled the room broke the tension before the Knight of Nine walked over and pulled Euphemia in to a hug.

"Oh, Euphie. You are too sweet." The Knight said with a smile as she rocked her body side to side, Euphemia held tight to her before she released her and turned to look at Cornelia. "I'll go with her."

Cornelia couldn't really fight the idea. Nonette was as capable a fighter as any of the Knights of the Round, she was a dead-eye with a pistol and Cornelia knew that she would willingly defend Euphemia against anyone. But she was too much of a live-wire. Nonette had the ability to go from nought to sixty in a split second, and there was the danger that, if Zero even flinched in a way she didn't like, Nonette would shoot the man dead. Granted, it would solve a problem, but Cornelia didn't doubt that the man had a contingency plan to deal with that sort of situation.

No. She needed someone calmer, someone with a more level head, but someone who would not be above putting herself in harms way when the situation called for it...

The only other Knight of the Round in Area 11.

"Lady Ernst. Would you have any objections to taking on the role as my sister's bodyguard for tonight?" Cornelia asked. "I know it's not my place to order one of my father's Knights but -"

"Princess Cornelia," The Knight of Four interrupted Cornelia, taking her by surprise. "I have no problem taking on the role of bodyguard for Princess Euphemia."

Cornelia looked at Dorothea as she mulled it over in her head: her ranks as Knight of Four not withstanding, she was a top marksman, a capable sword user. She had a level head, a good brain and a veteran of situations like this. A perfect bodyguard for her sister.

"Euphemia, is that all right with you?" Cornelia asked her sister, turning to look at her.

"It is!" Euphemia said, nodding her head vigorously.

"That settles it then. Dorothea will act as Euphemia's bodyguard for the handover." Cornelia stated before turning to look at the downcast Knight of Nine. "Sorry, Nonette."

"Nah, it's fine." Nonette said, waving off the comment. "You're right in choosing Dorothea though. She's always been better at this sort of thing anyway."

Cornelia nodded, glad that Nonette had taken the plan in such good humour.

"Right then. I'm going to begin drafting the ceasefire document. Guilford, I want you and Lady Ernst to go through any and all intel we have on the Yokohama docks and to also fill in Euphemia on our exit strategy if things go wrong."

Her personal Knight and the Knight of Four bowed their heads in respect, Euphemia nodding her own head, before the three moved to walk out of the office.

"Darlton, I need to stay behind for a few moments. And Nonette?"

The champagne-haired Knight looked at her quizzically for a few seconds.

"Just do whatever you want."

"Right." Nonette said, looking around the room and moving her arms in wide sweeps, obviously confused about what to do. "I'm going to take a nap. See ya!"

"You go do that." Darlton said, as he and Cornelia watched the Knight of Nine leave the room. When the door closed, the scarred general turned to look at the seated Princess as she drew a piece of paper with an elaborate letter-head from a drawer and placed it on her desktop. "So why wasn't I considered as Euphemia's bodyguard?"

"If Zero tried anything against Euphie and you were killed," Cornelia said as she picked up a fountain pen and brought it to the paper. "And she were captured, then that would cripple us even worse than we are already are."

"Fair point." Darlton said in reply.

"Besides, I have a special task for you. I want you to provide close security for the handover and to make sure that those bastards in the Black Knights don't try anything funny."

"What did you have in mind?" Darlton asked, intently listening to the Princess now.

"There's a special reconnaissance unit that took part in clearing the Narita Mountains of civilians before the battle. They're called Dagger Group, belonging to the 200th Imperial Princess' Pathfinders. They didn't get caught in the attack, so they're still at full fighting strength."

"Got it. I'll go contact their commanding officer." Darlton said, nodding his head. "Is there anything else, your Highness?"

"No, that will be all." Cornelia said as she focused on the paper before and the words she was writing in elegant script on it. She didn't notice Darlton bowing his head in respect before he walked to the door and exited the room, leaving Cornelia alone. The only noise that filled the room now was the sound of the Princess' pen scratching across the paper and the ticking of an antique clock ticking away.

Looking up from her work, Cornelia turned to look at the clock, it's elaborately wrought hands turning across the finely done clock-face.

Ten minutes past one in the afternoon was the time shown.

Turning back to the desk, she carried on writing in silence.

* * *

In her room in the requisitioned warehouse that served as the Black Knights' headquarters, sitting on her bed and wearing a pair of workout shorts and a crop-top sports top, Kallen let out a breathe through clenched teeth as she lifted the five pound dumbbell in her left hand up to be lateral with her shoulder for the twentieth time before setting the metal weight on to the floor. Kallen was happy that she had put in that request for a couple bits of weight training equipment, if they were just the two five pound dumbbells.

She'd have liked to have done more with the weight training, but the appearance she maintained at school wouldn't allow it. Her persona as a mild and meek daughter of an aristocrat meant she couldn't do any major bulking up, although Kallen had to admit as she stood up to grab a towel, she caught a glance of herself in the mirror she had installed in to the side wall of the room, she was proud of what her body looked like.

Her admiration of her own body was interrupted as a knock sounded on the door to her room.

"Hold on a minute!" Kallen called out as she quickly reached over, grabbing her uniform; a black double-breasted jacket and a miniskirt. Hastily, she dressed in the clothes, fitting the skirt over her hips when a voice sounded through the door.

"Kallen. It's Inoue. Are you okay?" The older woman asked, sounded a bit perplexed.

"Inoue? Bloody hell! Why didn't you say it was you?" Kallen asked in reply as she slid her arms in to the sleeves of her jacket before she walked over to the door.

Sure enough, opening the door revealed the familiar visage of Naomi Inoue, the indigo haired freedom fighter, standing on the other side.

"Working out again?" Inoue asked, looking past Kallen in to her room.

"Yeah, just keeping in shape." Kallen replied, before suddenly realising that she had her jacket open, revealing her, regretfully now, loose fitting workout top, and that the corridor outside her room had several Black Knights walking past. "Can we take this inside?"

"Of course." Inoue said, walking in to the room, following Kallen as the red-haired teenager retreated in to the room. The older woman took a seat on the single bed as Kallen took off her jacket to remove her workout top and replaced it with a simple white vest. "So Zero's got you and one of my squad guarding that Britannian Captain tonight for the handover."

"Yes, he has." Kallen said simply as she fixed the buttons on her jacket in place.

Behind her, Kallen couldn't see the look of confusion that came to Inoue's face at the answer.

"What's wrong, Kallen?"

"Nothing is wrong."

The sound of bedsprings squeaking was the only warning that Kallen got before she was rapidly turned around to look at Inoue, a worried look on the older woman's face.

"Kallen. What happened when you went to talk with that bastard?"

"What are you talking about?" Kallen asked Inoue, trying to wriggle out of her grip.

"Ever since you took food to that bastard last night, you've been acting odd." Inoue growled. "What did he say to you?"

Against her own will, Kallen felt herself slump in the older woman's grip before turning her head to avoid looking at Inoue.

"He... he said her forgave me."

"What?" Inoue asked, very confused by the remark. "What do you mean?"

Sighing, Kallen decided to tell the whole story about what Captain Forsyth had said to her: about how she should leave the Black Knights and that Zero only viewed her as a weapon, how she wasn't doing anything to 'break the cycle', about how their just as bad as Britannia, and how, in the end, while she might not be able to forgive Britannia for their actions, he would forgive her for the actions.

Throughout Kallen's explanation, Inoue loosened her grip on her arms before letting them drop entirely, all the while a look of confusion on her face. As Kallen's story came to a close, Inoue was at a loss at what to say.

"That's..." The indigo haired woman began before she was interrupted.

"Not what you expected him to say? Same here." Kallen said, trying her best to find some humour in the situation as she let out a small chuckle.

"Well... yeah!" Inoue said, shocked at the idea. "I mean... have you ever known a Britannian to be... nice?"

"In his defence, he's not Britannian."

"What?"

"He's not Britannian. He's British." Kallen said, although she knew it wasn't much of an explanation.

"That doesn't change anything." Inoue said with a scowl. "He's with Princess Cornelia, so he's an enemy. Case closed."

"But-"

"But nothing, Kallen!" The indigo-haired woman roared, making Kallen flinch. "He works for the enemy, that means he's an enemy. Case closed."

Kallen wanted to protest, but Inoue was right: no matter how genial the Captain may be, he was still an enemy. But to have an enemy who spoke the way he did, who saw her as a person, was... it just didn't make sense.

"Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?" Kallen asked, hoping to change the subject.

Inoue didn't look interested in anything else, but the look on Kallen's face told her that it would be better to change the topic.

"Yeah. Zero wants to see you in the main assembly area. It's about tonight."

"All right then. I'll get finished getting ready then." Kallen said, turning to look at her mirror, making sure that her jacket was done right. She didn't pay attention as Inoue walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

A few minutes later, fully dressed in her uniform, with her cap held in hand, she walked quickly to the large storeroom that served as the assembly area for the Black Knights. Before they had gotten their hands on it, the warehouse had just been another abandoned building in the Shin-Urayasu district. She wasn't sure if it had been a Japanese business before the war or a Britannian industry that fell on hard times, but the large storehouse had now been given over to being the Black Knights' assembly area. The large room was now filled with Burais, trucks, crates of provisions and men and women dressed in the uniform of the Black Knights.

She asked a passing maintenance technician where she could find Zero and she was directed to a spot near the back. As Kallen made her to the spot indicated to her, she found Zero talking to Kent, both men standing near a sleek looking black car. It was almost as if the entire car was made from darkness. The windows were tinted black, keeping outsiders from looking in, and the sleek lines and the shape of the grill and headlights gave the car an almost feral appearance.

Kallen couldn't help the whistle that came from her mouth as she saw the machine. "Fancy car."

Turning, Zero addressed her. "Do you like it? I got it from a Britannian noble. The man was very willing to give it away."

"I'm still unclear about that whole thing." Kent said, looking at Zero in confusion, to which the masked man merely shrugged.

"As I said: the man was very generous about giving it away. What time is it, Sugiyama?"

Kent looked at the watch on his wrist. "Eight twenty, Zero."

"Right then. Let's not keep the Viceroy waiting then." Zero said, turning to look back at the car. "Kent. Go and bring out the prisoner."

Nodding his head, the man went off towards the part of the building where the prisoner was being kept, leaving Kallen alone with Zero.

When Kent was out of sight, Kallen went to stand next to Zero.

"Zero. Are you sure you're fine with just two bodyguards?"

"Positive." Zero said simply. "I think we've got too important a prisoner for the Viceroy to try anything forceful to take him back. Plus, if it's Princess Euphemia too, then that's even more incentive for her to play it safe."

Kallen nodded her head as she returned her attention to the black car in front of them. She didn't know how much time had passed and she didn't know why she did it, so it took her by surprise when she asked the question that had been on her mind.

"Zero, what's going to happen to Japan when we win?"

The masked man turned his head to look at her slightly, the blank face seeming to scrutinise her before he answered her question.

"When we win, Japan will be secured from Britannia."

"But what about China?" Kallen asked.

"That which I cannot beat with strength of arms, I shall beat with diplomacy."

Zero's voice was the same as it always was: inspiring and persuasive. Kallen thoroughly believed what he said. His whole voice was just so relaxing and his tone made it sound logical. But then so did the Captain's voice. While Zero's reasoning was logical, Captain Forsyth's had been emotional and heartfelt.

To Kallen, it seemed that they were two sides of the same coin.

"Ah, so the brave Captain joins us at last." Zero said as, turning to side, Kallen saw the Captain, dressed in his drab green pilot suit, walking towards them. Kent brought up the rear behind him, carrying a submachine gun with the barrel trained on the other man's back.

"Hello to you, Captain Forsyth." Zero said genially, turning fully to look at the man.

"Hello, Zero," The Captain said, nodding his head with a small smirk on his face. "Finally gotten tired of having me around?"

Before Zero had a speak, Forsyth leaned close, an arrogant grin on his face.

"You can defeat a whole Britannian army, but not one single soldier? Doesn't really bode well for you does it?"

The cocky tone from the Captain quickly overrode any feelings of sympathy Kallen might have had for the man as she growled in irritation.

"That's enough, Captain!" She snarled out.

"Calm down, lass." The green-suited man said, standing back up to his full height, a small but no less cocky smile on his face. "Just having a bit of fun before we get back to fighting each other. Just because we're enemies doesn't mean we can't have some fun with each other."

"Agreed, Captain." Zero said, his acquiescence taking Kallen and Kent by surprise. "Just because the man smells like a dog doesn't mean he's wrong."

"There you go!" Forsyth said in reply, smiling before the smile fell quickly. "Is it that bad though?"

"Certainly could be better." Kent mumbled out in Japanese from behind the officer, making Kallen giggle slightly. If Zero was bothered, he didn't show it.

With a loud cough, the masked man cleared his throat, drawing the pair's attention on to him before he gestured to the sleek car beside them. "We really should get going."

The Captain shrugged in acceptance as Zero moved to the front passenger side door, while Kent walked over to the driver's side door. In Japanese, Zero addressed Kallen.

"Kallen, you'll be guarding the prisoner in the back. There's a submachine gun inside the car for you."

"Got it." Kallen responded before she jogged over the driver's side passenger door. Opening the door, she wasn't too surprised to see one another submachine gun, similar to the one Kent had, resting on her seat. Reaching inside, Kallen picked up the weapon before taking her place on the seat, closing the door behind her.

From the other side of the car, the other door opened as the green-suited Captain climbed in to the car himself. Upon entering the car, the man let out a low 'whoof' in surprise.

"Damn. For a terrorist group, you guys really do have good taste." The man said in astonishment as he looked around the interior of the car.

None of the Black Knights said anything in return as the engine of the car spun in to life. The nobleman who originally owned it had obviously had a nostalgic feeling for cars, as the car's chassis shook gently from the engine coming to life, something which very few of the electric cars in Japan did.

Leaving the warehouse behind them, the group travelled in silence. It wasn't too surprising considering that none of the occupants had anything to really talk about. So it blind-sided Kallen to hear Captain Forsyth's voice quietly asking her a question.

"Kallen, are you sure there's nothing I can say to make you change your mind about Britannia?"

"Just shut up." She growled out in irritation, feeling her hands tighten around the gun in her hands.

Seemingly oblivious to her building anger, the man continued speaking. "It's just that you never asked me what happened to your mother."

' _Mother!_ ' The word flashed across Kallen's mind as she turned to look at the man beside her.

"What do you know about her? What happened to her?" She hissed out, trying to avoid either Kent or Zero turning to look at them.

"She was addicted to refrain." The Captain said simply, turning to look out of the window. "She was facing seven years in prison for possession and using a class-A narcotic. But I managed to work out a deal."

Kallen's main finger moved dangerously close to the gun's trigger as she spoke. "What kind of deal?"

"She's been moved to a hospital, I don't know which one. She'll be treated as a patient there instead of in a prison, the same with the rest of the people found in that warehouse. She'll serve out her sentence there, along with getting help to kick her addiction."

Kallen's mouth fell open slightly as her eyes widened.

"If she shows good progress in kicking the addiction, the Viceroy agreed that she would have a few years taken off of her sentence."

"So... she could get out early?" The teenage girl asked, fully taken aback by what this man was telling her.

"It's all up to her, but I don't see why she shouldn't." Captain Forsyth replied with a shrug, before turning to shoot Kallen a small smile.

"And you made this deal with the Viceroy?" Kallen asked.

"Well, I had some help from Sub-Viceroy Euphemia, but yes, I did." He replied, giving her another smile.

Kallen's grip loosened on the submachine gun as she let it drop in to her lap as she slumped back in to her chair. The officer just looked at her before turning back to look out of the window.

"Kallen, we're getting close to the rendezvous point." Zero said, his voice filling the space, making the girl jolt back in to sitting right up. "Prepare the prisoner for the meeting."

"Y-yes, sir!" She replied, as she watched Zero reach through the gap between his and Kent's seats. In his hands, he held a single black zip-tie out to her, obviously to put around the Captain's wrists.

Setting her submachine gun down on to her lap, she took the piece of plastic in hand, then turned and tapped the other man on the shoulder, making him turn around.

"Give me your hands." She told him, making him promptly follow the command, sticking out his hands towards her, which Kallen promptly wrapped in the plastic fabric, pulling the tab tightly.

"Ouch." The man said, wincing at the sudden pain.

Kallen didn't say anything as she looked at the man, releasing his hands to pick up her weapon again. Looking out of her window, she saw that they were nearer to the Tokyo Settlement. They were closing to their destination now, and the sooner they could be rid of this man, the better.

But still, she only felt it right to say what she was going to say to him.

"Captain?" Kallen asked, turning to look at him. When he glanced over, she swallowed a bit of spit before she spoke.

"Thank you. For what you did for my mother."

The man's only reply was to look at her and smile.

Not giving him a chance to speak, Kallen spun back around in her seat and looked out of her window as she saw the warehouses that marked the Yokohama docks draw closer.

* * *

Standing in the middle of the docks, lit only by the headlights of the staff-car she and Dorothea had taken, along with the distant lights from the settlement, made the secluded part of the Yokohama docks designated for the exchange even more foreboding than Euphemia had originally thought as they drove in. Dressed in the same attire she wore at Narita, she felt a pang of cold go through her as a sudden but strong breeze from the north swept down from Mount Fuji. Steeling herself however, Euphemia braced herself against the cold as best she could.

"Do you want me to go back and fetch your coat?" Dorothea offered from beside her, the Knight of Four standing stoically beside her. Looking over, Euphemia saw that the female Knight was dressed in her pristine white jacket with gold trim and deep blue panelling on the inner lining. At her waist, sitting on her belt, where her chosen weapons for the night: a pistol held in a leather holster on her right hip, butt facing forward, while a sword, straight-bladed with a basket hilt, hung in it's scabbard from a series of smaller belts to hang below her left knee. To the untrained eye, it look like an odd combination but to someone like the Knight of Four, it posed no problem at all to her skilled hands.

"No, it's all right, Lady Dorothea." Euphemia replied with a soft smile. "They won't be long now." Raising her left arm, she let the wide puffy sleeve slide down to reveal a beautifully crafted watch. The Princess watched as the second hand slowly ticked round the face over golden Roman numerals inlaid in to an ivory disc.

8:56

Four minutes until Zero arrived with Ciaran.

In her right hand, she held her part of the deal: encased safely in a metal cylinder was a piece of paper. At the top was a letter-head consisting of an elegant rolling design surrounding the coat of arms of the Britannian Royal Family. Below all of that, written in elegant and scrolling black script, was the document written and signed by Cornelia herself that said that Britannian military forces under her command would not take any action against the Black Knights for seven days, starting on midnight that night.

"Of course it all depends on that arrogant bastard Zero." Euphemia remembered her sister grumbling out as she wrote the document.

Letting her eyes wander, Euphemia looked around the surrounding rooftops. When the Princess and Dorothea had prepared to leave the large military truck that brought them here, she had overheard Darlton ordering something called 'Dagger Group' to take position somewhere to 'cover the Princess'. Now, she was looking around trying to find any trace of the group.

"Your Highness, they're here." Dorothea said, bringing Euphemia back in to the world. Looking ahead, she saw a simple black car, with black tinted windows and headlights blazing bright, rolled in to the centre of the docks, stopping a dozen feet or so away from them. The squeal of the breaks being applied filled the air before the doors at the front and back opened.

Stepping out from behind the door, Euphemia immediately locked on to the caped form of Zero as the masked man pulled himself up to his full height before moving to stand in front of the car. From the opposite side of the car, a man wearing a uniform consisting of a black double-breasted jacket with short sleeves and a pair of black trousers exited the driver's side door. On his head, he wore a cap with a low visor that obscured the upper portion of his head. Behind Zero, a young woman stood up from behind the driver's side passenger door. Underneath the same type of visored cap, Euphemia could make out a shock of deep red hair and her uniform was the same as the other's man except, instead of a pair of trousers, she wore a black miniskirt and a long pair of black tights. In her hands, she carried a compact and lethal looking submachine gun.

Euphemia's apprehension at the meeting perked up slightly as she the person she was here to rescue as she saw Ciaran, still dressed in his drab green pilot suit, step out of the car and move to stand between Zero and the red haired woman. Looking directly at him, Euphemia saw that his hands were bound in front of him. But his captive state did nothing to perturb him it seemed, as he shot the princess a soft but sweet smile.

"Good evening, Princess Euphemia li Britannia," The masked terrorist began, sounding cordial. "It's such a shame we have to meet here, but... the Lady Knight of Four?"

"Good evening to you, Zero." Dorothea replied, nodding her head slightly in way of a greeting with a small smile.

The man behind the terrorist growled something out, raising his submachine as he did so. In response, the Knight of Four quickly drew her pistol, aiming it at the man, while Euphemia tried to make sense of what happened.

"What? What's going on?" She asked, looking at either group for an answer.

"My compatriot is right," Zero said in reply. "Why is a Knight of the Round here?"

"Because it's your own fault, dumb-ass." Ciaran growled out, catching everyone's attention. "You said that Euphemia could bring one bodyguard. It's your own fault for not saying that she couldn't bring Lady Dorothea or Lady Nonette as her chosen bodyguard."

Euphemia wasn't too shocked to hear Ciaran speak like that. She'd heard what he said at Narita to the Purists, but the fact that he'd say it to the man who had him captive... she was a little bit worried.

If Zero was phased by Ciaran's outburst, then he didn't show it. He gave a few quick words to the men behind who, very reluctantly, lowered his weapon.

"Very well. I'll allow it then." Zero said reluctantly, obviously not too pleased about the situation but continuing on regardless. "So, your Highness, I presume that you have your sister's declaration with you?"

Raising her right hand, Euphemia showed the cylinder which held the document proclaiming the ceasefire.

"If you would be so kind as to bring it to me, Princess." Zero asked, holding his out his hand, obviously expecting Euphemia to just give it to him.

It was an idea that neither Dorothea or Ciaran obviously did not find convincing.

"Are you serious?" Ciaran asked in a deadpan voice.

"What the-?" The male Black Knight began to reply before he was interrupted by Dorothea.

"The Captain's right. We'd be stupid to just let Her Highness walk straight over to you." The Knight of Four said, fixing Zero with a hostile glare.

"So how are we doing this then?" The red-haired Black Knight asked in irritation.

"Just do it old school." Ciaran interjected, drawing everyone's attention on to him.

"What do you mean?" Euphemia asked, puzzled by the statement.

"Meet in the middle." The captive Briton replied, saying it like it was the simplest thing in the world as he addressed the Princess. "One of the Black Knights' brings me to you and either you or Lady Dorothea brings the paper to us. We meet in the middle and we do a switch. Simple as."

The collective reactions to Ciaran's words were mixed. The Black Knights were sceptical, to say the least, as they gave each other confused looks. Dorothea looked at Euphemia with a look that said "It's not the worst idea" and Zero, well, no-one was able to see the look on Zero's face because of his mask, but the sigh that filtered through the mask told them that the masked terrorist saw it as the only way to continue.

"Very well then," The man said before turning to look at the red-haired woman. He quickly addressed her in Japanese in hushed tones. Euphemia strained her ears to try and hear what was being said, but the distance and a sudden gust of wind destroyed any chance she had of hearing Zero's words.

The Princess' breath caught in her throat as she saw saw the female terrorist sling her submachine gun and draw small but wicked bladed knife from a hidden pouch on her belt, pointing the blade at Ciaran. In front of her, Euphemia saw the young man's eyes open wide in shock while to her side, Dorothea quickly moved her right hand to the holster on her left hip, moving to draw the pistol, her face morphing in to what could only be described as a grimace.

The tension felt by the Britannians quickly dissipated as they saw the woman lift up Ciaran's bound wrists and, with a swift motion that they would have missed if they hadn't been watching, the terrorist cut the bonds on their captives wrists, letting his hands move free.

"So it looks like we're doing it that way then." Euphemia said, a small smile coming to her face as she saw Ciaran rub his wrists.

"Indeed we are." Dorothea mused quietly beside her, as she moved her hand back to the side of her hip. "I'll take the document."

Euphemia looked at the female Knight's face in surprise, Dorothea's eyes locked on the group standing in front of them. "Are you sure?"

"I don't trust Zero to not try anything funny if you're the one who gives him the declaration." Dorothea replied, saying it in a matter-of-fact fashion. "Besides, it looks like my being here has thrown a bit of a spanner in his works. So I doubt he'll try anything if both myself and Ciaran are together."

Euphemia arced an eyebrow at her phrasing but wasn't able to ask the question that was on her mind as Zero called out to them.

"We're ready whenever you are, your Highness."

Looking at Dorothea, who gave me a reassuring smile, Euphemia let out a sigh as she accepted the older woman's decision and handed her, albeit reluctantly, the cylinder which Dorothea took in her own hand.

"All right, Zero!" The Knight of Four called out to the group of terrorists. "I'll be delivering the document to you."

"Very well, then, Lady Knight of Four. You'll meet with my compatriot in the middle." The masked man said, before giving a command to the red-haired woman beside him who replied with a curt reply in Japanese before moving behind Ciaran and promptly pushing him with, what she assumed to be, the barrel of her gun as the pair moved forward.

To the Princess, the time it took for the three people to meet in the middle felt like forever, even though it was logically only several seconds. From the sidelines, she couldn't do anything except wring her hands together in anticipation as she watched Dorothea and her friend's guard draw closer together until they stood less than a few paces apart.

Euphemia watched with rapt attention as Ciaran nodded his head in a slight bow to Dorothea before moving to stand on her left side as, reaching forward, the dark-skinned Knight handed the metal cylinder to the black uniformed woman who readily accepted it. Then, like Euphemia had seen so often at the military parades she attended with Cornelia, the two Britannians disengaged from the terrorist by taking several steps backwards before turning to walk back to stand near the Princess. At the same time, the Black Knight turned around and walked back to Zero and her other compatriot.

As she watched Dorothea and Ciaran draw closer to her, Euphemia couldn't help but let a smile come to her face. They're job was complete: her friend and adopted brother-figure had been rescued and the document signifying a ceasefire had been handed over. A complete success.

"Princess Euphemia?" The Briton asked, drawing the young Princess' attention as the man bowed to her. Looking up, the smile faded somewhat as she saw the state that Ciaran was in: dried blood caked the right side of his head below and above his ear, matting his hair down. His eyes were bloodshot and the dark circles under his eyes had deepened. In all, he looked haggard and tired. The lights from the staff car behind her brought Ciaran's skin in to stark contract too, although she hoped that he wasn't really as pale as the light made him look.

"C... Captain Forsyth." She struggled to keep her demeanour in front of the Black Knights. "It is... good to see you unharmed."

"Thank you, your highness." Ciaran replied, a smile coming to his face, the look of genuine joy plain for Euphemia. "I'm glad to be finally out of there."

"It's good to see you free, Ciaran." Dorothea said, putting a hand on Ciaran's shoulder in a friendly gesture, a smile coming to her face as she looked at the young Briton, a smile which he returned.

"Princess Euphemia!" Zero's voice called out over the yard, echoing off the sides of the buildings around them as the trio turned around to look at him. Standing in front of the sleek black car, Zero cut quite a dramatic figure as he held up the piece of paper that he had taken out of the cylinder for them to see.

"You can tell Viceroy Cornelia that I accept the terms in her declaration. The Black Knights will not take any military action against the Britannian military or the Britannian government from midnight tonight." Zero said before rolling up the parchment and placing it back inside the metal container.

"Fast reader." Ciaran said in mild amazement as he watched the Black Knights move to get back in to their car.

"I bid all of you a good night." Zero called out, bowing slightly before the mask lifted up to look in the direction of the green jacketed Briton. "And to Captain Forsyth, I hope we don't have to meet again any time soon."

"Right back at you, you tosser!" Ciaran called out in reply, a cocky smile on his face that quickly fell in to a glare as he watched the masked terrorist simply respond with a nod of his head before climbing in to his car.

"You didn't have to rile him up, Ciaran." Euphemia said, chastising the young man beside her as she shot him a dirty look.

The Briton looked at her from the corner of his eyes for a few seconds before, sighing, he spoke. "Sorry, Euphemia. The man just... he rubs me the wrong way. I can't stand self-righteous pricks who feel that they alone can decide what people feel."

Putting his hands in to a pair of pockets that Euphemia didn't know he had, Ciaran let out a small yawn.

"Tired?" Dorothea asked, giving Ciaran a sly smile.

"Shattered. You try sleeping on a moth-eaten sofa as a bed." The young man said in reply, eliciting a small giggle from Euphemia.

"Come on. Let's head back." The Princess said, turning to walk back to the waiting car.

Slipping in to the back of the car, Euphemia waited for Ciaran to close the passenger side door before, springing forward, she wrapped her arms Ciaran's neck as she pulled him tightly in to a hug.

"What the...?" The man asked, as they felt the car rock gently as Dorothea closed the door. If she had looked up, Euphemia would have seen the Knight of Four looking at the two of them fondly.

"I missed you." Were the only words that Euphemia said in reply, burying her face in the hollow of Ciaran's neck, feeling the fabric of his pilot suit rub against her face. So focused on her hug as she was, Euphemia didn't notice that Ciaran had moved his arms until she found herself pulled in to a hug herself.

"I missed you too." She heard the young man say softly as he rested his chin against the top of Euphemia's head. She closed her eyes as she nearly melted in to the hug.

The car was silent as the two stayed in their embrace, Dorothea obviously not wanting to disturb the pair. The two stayed connected until Ciaran unconsciously let himself slide backward, which had the effect of making Euphemia's head slide down his chest, with her nose coming close to his armpit.

From which she accidentally took a sniff.

Eyes snapping open, Euphemia suddenly shot back upright, a noise escaping from her throat that could only be described as mixture of a gag and a retch.

"Oh God, Ciaran! You stink!"

A look of hurt on his face, Ciaran began blustering. "W-what did you expect? I've not had a shower for two days."

"That's no excuse!" Euphemia replied while Dorothea started the engine of the staff-car, the electric motor purring in to life, a mirthful smile on the Knight's face. "Before anything else, you are getting a shower. Now open the window."

"That's not going to do much you know." Ciaran replied as he pressed the button to let the tinted window slide down in to the door, letting in a gust of air roll in to the vehicle.

"It will if you stick your body out of it." Dorothea said, her voice betraying her glee at the situation.

"What?!"

"She's right, Ciaran." Euphemia said, nodding her head at the idea. "Until we get to the hospital, you're to stick your body out of the window."

"Oh, come on!" Ciaran cried out, sounding more like a stroppy teenager than a Captain of the Royal Guard.

"Just do it." Dorothea said in reply.

Seeing he was not getting any help in the current situation, Ciaran relented as he moved to lean the top part of his body out of the window.

"I do not deserve this." He grumbled out-loud.

Euphemia giggled at his discomfort, but the lingering smell of his underarm made her decision stick. A feeling began to nag on her mind though as, looking over, she saw that Dorothea's face was a blank mask as she drove the car out of the docks.

Moving forward, after making sure that Ciaran wasn't capable of overhearing her conversation, Euphemia leant forward, leaning her body over the back of the front passenger seat.

"Dorothea?" She asked hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

Slightly surprised by her voice, the Knight moved her head slightly to the side, so she could keep one eye on the road while also talking to the Princess. "What do you mean, Your Highness?"

"I mean, about me hugging Ciaran." Euphemia replied in as near a whisper as she could considering the loud roar of the wind in the background. "Especially after... especially after what you told me."

The Knight of Four was silent for a few short seconds before she turned her attention back to the road in front of her, a small smile on her.

"It's all right, Princess. I know that you don't think of Ciaran in that way, so you don't have to worry about anything."

Euphemia was silent as she digested what Dorothea had said before she nodded in agreement. She did care for Ciaran, but certainly not in the way that Dorothea did.

The sound of a ringing phone, the type that was installed in virtually every staff-car used by Britannian nobility, filled the space. Seeing that Dorothea was too preoccupied with driving and that Ciaran was currently preoccupied with keeping his odour out of the car, Euphemia reached over and took the ringing phone from the receiver built in to the armrest by the gear-stick.

"Hello?"

"Princess Euphemia?" The rough voice of General Darlton rolled out from the other end of the line. "I just have one question: why is Ciaran sticking out of the window?"

* * *

Pacing in one of the long white hallways situated in the Tokyo Concession General Hospital, the scarred General Darlton resembled something more akin to an anxious parent than a military officer. Although given the situation of the past few days, it was to be expected.

When the staff car carrying Princess Euphemia, Dorothea and Ciaran had arrived at the hospital, Darlton hadn't had time to see the young man before he had been whisked away somewhere inside. From what he knew, they had taken Ciaran straight for a check-up with the doctors. He could understand the need to give him a once over due to his head injury, but he felt that the MRI scan might have been pushing it a bit.

Stopping his movements, Darlton looked up at the digital clock on the wall.

9:54

They had been here for well over half an hour now, and he was getting a bit angsty.

The distinctive clacking sound of high-heels from behind him didn't register on his mind, so it took him by complete surprise when he felt a hand touch his left shoulder. It took all of his mental strength to resist spinning around and punching the person, although he couldn't help raise his fist as he turned to see Dorothea behind him.

"Calm down, Andreas. It's just me." The dark-skinned Knight said, holding her hands up in a placating gesture, which she lowered as Darlton let his fist relax and fall down to his side.

"Ah, sorry, Dorothea. I'm just a bit strung up at the moment." The general said with a sigh before looking Dorothea over. She had shed her sword and pistol, obviously not wanting to avoid any unnecessary and unfortunate encounters from the hospital staff or patients. "Any word on Ciaran?"

"I was just coming to get you about that, actually. He's been seen to and the doctor's say he's fine. He's also had a shower, so he should be in the room they've set aside for him. Room A-22."

"A-22. Got it." Darlton said as he felt a wave of relief wash over him. "I'll go and have a talk with him."

"Want me to come with you?" Dorothea asked.

"No. This talk has to be between me and him, if you don't mind." Darlton said, a small measure of sternness in his voice as he began to move to the room Dorothea indicated. As he walked past her, he felt one of her hands grasp on to his bicep to stop him.

"Don't be too rough on him, Andreas." Dorothea said, keeping her hand on the larger man's arm. "He's had a tough time as it is..."

"I'm not going to yell at him, Dorothea." Darlton said, a disarming smile on his face. "I just need to see for myself how he's doing."

The Knight of Four looked at him for a moment, seeming to look for any tell that shows that Darlton was telling a lie. After a few short seconds, she removed her hand from his arm, giving him a smile and a nod.

"All right then. If you need me, I'll be helping Princess Euphemia with an errand."

Darlton only nodded in reply as he left Dorothea to go and help the Princess with whatever she was doing. Walking down the near vacant hallway, his heavy footsteps ringing down the silent corridors, Darlton ignored the various things that would be found in a hospital's hallway. Chairs, doors to patient rooms, a wheeled stretcher or two, even the night nurse and cleaners just phased past Darlton as he made his way to his target.

Standing outside the door marked as A-22, the general moved his hand to grip the door-handle. Pausing for a moment, he lifted his hand to give three measured knocks to the door instead.

"Come in!" Ciaran's voice called out from the other side. At the acknowledgement to enter, Darlton opened the door and closed it behind him as he entered the room.

Directly across from him, sitting on the single bed in the room in a very unflattering hospital gown, was the young captain. He looked more refreshed than he did in the ransom video, although the older man had to admit that Ciaran looked dogged tired. The dark circles under his eyes were still there, but he seemed more alert now.

"Ah, General!" The young man said with a start, moving to stand off the bed, which Darlton stopped him doing so by putting his hand up.

"No, it's all right, Ciaran." He said as he waved him back down as he drew closer. "What did the doctors say? About your head, I mean."

The young man waved off the comment. "Ah, it's fine. They say it was mainly some external bleeding and a bruise to the skull apparently. They even made me do some tests to make sure I still had my motor functions, which I passed, so I seem to be right as rain."

Darlton nodded at the news as he stood nearer the bed, crossing his arms over his large chest. On the bed, Ciaran put his hands together and placed them on to his stomach, twiddling his thumbs at the awkward silence between the two of them.

After a few long seconds, Darlton finally spoke. "You disobeyed orders."

Ciaran didn't look up at the General as he replied. "I know."

"I told you to stay at your cockpit and to wait for pick-up." The General continued, feeling himself get in to the groove as his frustration built. "But no! You decided to go chasing the Black Knights by yourself! What the bloody hell were you thinking?"

Ciaran didn't say anything in reply as Darlton continued speaking.

"You were doing so well, too! You were listening and following mine and Cornelia's orders so well. Even the way you reacted to the Black Knights trying to flank us was impressive, I will not lie about that, even if you did try to go against that red Knightmare by yourself..."

"I know, sir. I know!" Ciaran growled in frustration, as he moved his hands up to cover his face before sliding them over his forehead to grip his hair. "I fucked up, sir. I know."

"So just tell me: what made you think you could take on that group by yourself?" Darlton asked simply, trying his best to regain his temper.

"I don't know!" Ciaran roared in reply, moving his hands away from his head. His face was red with anger and Darlton was positive that he could see tears starting to form in his eyes. "I honestly don't know why I did it. All I know is that I did, and that's it!"

Darlton opened his mouth, a retort ready on his lips, before Ciaran did something he didn't expect. Putting one of his hands under his chin, the young man turned to look at the far wall, not looking at Darlton as a few tears fell down his face.

"I'm a right fucking idiot." Ciaran said quietly to himself, but not quiet enough for Darlton to ignore.

Letting out a deep sigh, Darlton turned around and sat on to the bed, feeling the mattress dip as he set his weight on it. He didn't look as he heard Ciaran shuffle his feet to make room for the larger man.

"Ciaran. Please don't think I'm angry at you. I'm not, in any way, angry at what you did."

From the corner of his eye, Darlton saw the young man move his head to look at him. For his part, the General only put his hands together as in prayer.

"I'm just disappointed is all. I said it myself: you were doing so well. And then you go and pull a stunt like that."

Turning his head, Darlton looked at the young man, a wan smile on his face.

"Look. I know it's a bit of a stretch to say this, but I have seen this happen before. Young officers, given command for the first time think they have something to prove by doing something stupid and heroic, in that order. It's something that will always happen, Ciaran. So don't feel that I'm singling you out. It's just unfortunate that you're one of the very few people I've been able to have this talk with."

He could almost hear the sound of Ciaran cringing at the last part of his statement, before the young man used the back of his hands to wipe at his eyes.

"You're quite an emotional guy, aren't you?" Darlton asked, cracking a smile at Ciaran as he regained his composure.

Ciaran smiled in reply as he shrugged. "Can't help it. I've always been this way. Didn't do well for me in high school." The thin smile and shrug he gave along with his reply told the General all he needed to know on the matter so he didn't push it.

"I can imagine." Darlton said as he pushed himself off the bed before moving towards the door.

"General." Ciaran said, stopping Darlton in his tracks. "I spoke to Kallen."

The mention of the red-haired teenager caught the General's attention. "Did you? What happened?"

"I tried to get her to leave the Black Knights."

Well. That was certainly not expected. "You tried to get her to leave them?"

Ciaran nodded his head.

"And how did that go?" Darlton asked.

"About as well as you think. She's fully taken with Zero's claims." Ciaran said resignedly, obviously not happy at his failings.

Darlton didn't say anything in response. His meeting with the girl at Nagano didn't give him much information on the girl, so he had to take Ciaran's words at face value.

He was about to open his mouth just as the sound of a person knocking on the door filtered in to the room.

"That's probably Princess Euphemia." Darlton noted.

"Right then. Come on in!" Ciaran said before calling out to the door.

At his request, the door to the room opened and through the widening crack, both occupants saw Euphemia and Dorothea on the other side of the doorway. It to the surprise of both Ciaran and Darlton that the Princess came in to the room first, carrying what could only be described as a duffel bag on one of her shoulders, the dark grey material clashing horribly with her customary pink outfit.

"Well, look who's up!" Euphemia chirped happily as she moved in to the room, with Dorothea trailing behind her as she closed the door, before her eyes opened in shock at the state of Ciaran's face. "What happened?"

Darlton looked over at Ciaran to see what the Princess was referring to. The only think that didn't look right about him was the fact that his eyes were a bit...

"Oh." Darlton said in realization at what the Princess saw as he saw her drop the large bag and rush to stand in front of Ciaran, grabbing his cheeks as she looked at him.

"What did you say to him, General?" Euphemia asked the large man, looking up at him with what could only be described as mild rage. Thankfully, Ciaran decided to answer for him.

"It's nothing, your Highness. Darlton needed to vent and I'm a bit wrung out, so the outcome wasn't really in my favour." Ciaran admitted readily.

From his position above them, Darlton couldn't see the look that passed between the two young people, but he wasn't too surprised to see Euphemia nod in reply before releasing Ciaran's face, a smile back on her face. Turning around, the Princess picked the large bag off of the floor and lifted it in to her arms, cradling it like a baby.

"Well now. Ciaran, I have a change of clothes for you right here." She punctuated the last two words by patting the bag sharply before handing it to Ciaran. "When you've changed, we can all head back to the palace."

The young man nodded as he opened the bag and rifled through the contents.

"Since we've got that planned out," Darlton chimed in, drawing the two noble women's eyes to him. "I think we should let Ciaran get changed in privacy. Let's go."

Euphemia looked like she was going to protest, but it was Dorothea who made her leave as she bent forward to whisper in to her ear. Darlton couldn't hear what was said, but the fact that Euphemia's cheeks reddened told him all he needed to know. Nodded her head vigorously, Euphemia turned before trailing Dorothea out of the room, with Darlton close behind him.

Before he exited through the door, the scarred general stopped and turned.

"Ciaran?"

The young man stopped his movements as he was putting the bag on to the bed he was sat on. "Sir?"

"It's good to have you back."

Ciaran returned the smile that Darlton was giving him as he nodded before the general left the room. Outside in the hallway, he saw Euphemia talking happily with Dorothea. At the sound of the door closing, the two noble women turned to look at him.

"So he's all right?" Euphemia asked, giving Darlton what could only be described as a mild case of stink-eye.

"Yes, he's fine, your Highness." Darlton said in reply, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. "As he said, he's just a little wrung out is all."

Euphemia seemed ready to reply but a hand on her shoulder from Dorothea drew her attention.

"It's all right, Princess. The doctors have said he's fine, and we should be happy about that. When he's dressed, then we can head back to the palace. Sound good?"

Darlton couldn't help but smile at how Dorothea had handled the young Princess as Euphemia quickly calmed down.

"Dorothea?" Darlton asked, crossing his arms across his chest. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Yes?" Dorothea replied.

"You agreed to this task quite quickly."

Dorothea shot Darlton a confused look. "And? When I was an officer cadet, I would volunteer for anything you gave quickly, no matter how daft it was. Remember that job you had me do to try and steal the Artillery Corps' instructors pet rabbit?"

Darlton didn't try to fight the snigger that came at the recollection of that particular assignment. The sight of a younger, and very proud looking, Dorothea walking in to his office and plopping a black, furry rabbit on to his desk, right on top of his papers. He quickly suppressed the memory though as he continued talking.

"But that's not you any more. So why on this one?"

He would have to have been blind to have not seen the look that passed between Dorothea and Euphemia, and he would have been blind to not see the small look of worry that came to Dorothea's face.

The door to Ciaran's room opened and out walked the rescued young man, dressed in a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt with a black tribal pattern, and a dark brown jacket. The outfit was complete by him wearing a pair of brown leather boots.

"Oh, well now. Isn't that better?" Euphemia said as Ciaran walked out of the room with the duffel bag in his hand. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, I'm ready." Ciaran replied as he lifted the bag on to his shoulder before following the young Princess as she walked down the corridor.

Dorothea made to follow, but she stopped dead in her tracks as she felt Darlton put a hand on her shoulder.

"Andreas?" She asked, looking at the scarred General in confusion.

"Something is up with you, Dorothea." Darlton said in reply as he removed his hand from her shoulder. "I might be the only one who's noticed it, but you've been acting weird around Ciaran, ever since Kitakyushu."

The Knight of Four didn't say anything to Darlton, the only movement she made was to look down at her feet. The General let out a small sigh as he put his hands on to both of her shoulders, causing her to look up.

"Tell me honestly: what's going on with you?"

Uncertainty flashed across Dorothea's face. "I... I'm not sure."

Darlton shot her a small, reassuring smile as he patted his large hands on his shoulders before letting them fall to his sides. He opened his mouth to say something before Euphemia's voice carried down the hallway.

"Hey! Are you two coming or what?" The young Princess called out. From the other end of the hallway, Darlton and Dorothea looked up to the see Euphemia standing next to Ciaran impatiently, her hands on her hips while tapping her foot quickly against the floor.

"Coming, Princess." Dorothea called out as she made to quickly move towards them, Darlton following her a few paces behind.

* * *

The drive back to the Viceroy's Palace was quick and simple, the large command truck that was used in Kitakyushu guiding the way for the smaller staff car. Although at ten at night, the streets were quiet enough not to warrant any sort of motorcade to clear the roads.

Entering the palace, Ciaran wasn't sure what to expect. Although in retrospect, being virtually tackled by Nonette as soon as he exited the elevator from the palace's garage should have been something he saw coming. So it was, that for the third time in just over a month, Ciaran found himself wrapped in the Knight of Nine's arms as she nearly bore him to the ground.

"It's about bloody time you got back! Where have you been?" Nonette asked as she released her hold on the young Briton, looking at him incredulously. Above them, Ciaran could see Darlton, Dorothea and Euphemia laughing quietly at the display.

"If I knew, I'd gladly tell you, Nonette." Ciaran said with a chuckle as he pushed himself up off the floor, with Nonette helping him up by gripping his forearm and pulling him up. When his face was level with hers, Ciaran was surprised to see a soft smile on Nonette's face before she put her hands on his shoulders.

"It's good to have you back, Ciaran." The champagne-haired woman said, the relief clear in her voice.

Ciaran opened and closed his mouth several times, unsure of what to say. Shutting it, he decided that words weren't needed as he wrapped his arms around Nonette's shoulders and pulled her in to a hug of his own, feeling the older woman nuzzle her cheek against his own.

"Are you two trying to give everyone diabetes?" The distinctive voice of Lord Guilford said from behind Nonette, prompting Ciaran to tilt his head sideways to see past the woman's head of hair. Past the champagne colour hair, he saw Cornelia's Knight standing a few paces behind her, his arms crossed over his chest and a smile on his face.

Managing to disentangle himself from Nonette's arms, Ciaran moved around the Knight of Nine to move to stand in front of Lord Guilford. When there was just over a foot between the two, Guilford reached forward and gripped Ciaran's hand tightly before shaking it heartily.

"Welcome back, Captain."

"Again: it's glad to be back, my lord." Ciaran said, returning the handshake.

The pair shook hands for a few seconds, enough time to let the others out of the elevator and in to the hallway. When he saw that everyone was together, Guilford released his hand.

"The Princess is waiting to see you, Ciaran. She wants to talk to you." The Knight said in a sympathetic voice, to which Ciaran's only reply was to shrug.

"Let's get this over with then." The young man said, a smile on his face before Guilford led the group down to Cornelia's office. The group walked in silence for the way, each one unsure of what to say, given the situation.

When the large doors to the office were in sight, Guilford stopped the group as he turned to face them.

"The Princess wants to see Ciaran alone before she calls everyone else in. She didn't say why, but she was quite clear on it." Guilford said, pre-empting any words of protest from the others before moving towards the large doors.

"Wish you were still held captive by the Black Knights?" Darlton teased, leaning forward slightly to say to the young man, who only shrugged and smiled.

"This is just becoming par for the course for me." Ciaran said, chuckling slightly, although inwardly he was pretty terrified about the possibility of what was going to happen as he watched Guilford knock on one of the doors then proceeded to open it, indicating that Ciaran should enter.

Entering the room, the door closing shut behind him, Ciaran wasn't sure what he expected. So it wasn't too surprising that Cornelia was seated in her chair, reclining to the side, with what appeared to be a pen in her hand, which she tapped loudly on the desk surface.

"Come closer, Ciaran." The Princess said. While she didn't say it as a command, her tone brokered no argument as Ciaran practically jogged towards the desk, stopping short of a few feet from the front of the piece of furniture.

"Cornelia." Ciaran said by way of a greeting, unsure of what was going to happen to him.

Up close, he expected Cornelia's face to not show any emotion except for anger. But as he looked at her, he saw her formally blank expression morph in to a look of relief.

"So the bastard didn't play any tricks then." The Princess said quietly.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing, Ciaran." Cornelia replied as she stood up from her chair before walking around the desk to stand in front of the young man. Drawing close, Ciaran watched as the Princess' deep purple eyes wandered over his face, seeming to scrutinise him as she gently turned his head from side to side.

Satisfied with whatever she was looking for, or not looking for, Cornelia moved her hands to rest against Ciaran's shoulders before pulling him closer. When he was close, the Princess leaned forward, letting her forehead bump softly against his. Ciaran's eyes opened in surprise for a second at the movement, but he soon smiled back and leaned in to the display of affection.

"I missed you guys." He said as he closed his eyes, feeling Cornelia wrap her arms around his shoulders. "I'm sorry for what I put you all through."

Leaning back to stand up straight, Cornelia looked at Ciaran in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, it was my fault that I got captured at Narita. I disobeyed orders and did something stupid." Ciaran said, trying to put on a brave face, but ultimately deciding against it as he let his head droop.

Letting out a sigh, Cornelia moved her hands to rest against his shoulders again as she looked at him.

"Yes, what you did was stupid," Cornelia said, making Ciaran wince. "But you're alive. So I think we can say that fact renders that moot. Okay?"

Ciaran looked at Cornelia in shock, expecting her to give him a proper chewing out. But to hear Cornelia excuse his action felt... weird.

"Besides, I've got something planned for you to pay me back." Cornelia said, a sly smile on her face as she unwrapped her arms from around Ciaran's shoulders and walked back to her chair. "But we'll discuss that tomorrow. Can you bring everyone else in here, please?"

"Of course, your Highness." The young Briton replied, nodding his head before walking towards the large doors. Opening one of them, he found the rest of the group waiting outside, all of them raising their heads at the sound of the door opening. Ciaran didn't say anything to them, only motioning them in with a small wave of his hand.

Following him, the group filled in quickly, filling the space around Cornelia's desk in a small semi-circle, Euphemia moving to stand beside her sister. Looking around him, Ciaran couldn't help but notice how out of place he was out of his uniform.

"Since we're all here," Cornelia said, interlacing his fingers as she rested her hands on the desk. "And since our young friend wasn't available for the debriefing, we'll do that now. Darlton?"

For the next fifteen minutes, the scarred general went over the facts of the latter half of the battle, after Ciaran lost his Gloucester against Kallen's Knightmare. He explained how, after sending the Purists to reinforce Cornelia's guard, they found themselves blind-sided by an attack on two fronts: the first front being the mountain side from the forces of the Japanese Liberation Front, who seemed to have caught their second wind from the Black Knight's surprise attack and the second front being an attack from the rear by the elite of the JLF, The Four Holy Swords.

"The Four Holy Swords?" Ciaran asked, interrupting Darlton. "Sounds like the superheroes from a lame kid's TV show."

The Britannians couldn't help but chuckle along with the young man as Darlton responded. "Yes. They do have a bad name. But that's the only bad thing about them. They ripped through the Princess' battle-group before they knew it. Guilford managed to keep their leader, Kyoshiro Tohdoh, busy for a while, the rest of the Holy Swords ran roughshod over the others. The Purists took the worst of it."

The mirth fell from Ciaran's face. "How many survived?"

"Two from that group." Guilford said, trying to soften the blow. "Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald and Lord Jonathan Bruckveld. Although Lord Bruckveld is currently in a military hospital, so he's combat ineffective."

He didn't mean for it to happen, but Ciaran's voice caught in his throat as he asked the next question. "And... and the group I commanded?"

"... Only one survived. Lady Villetta Nu." Cornelia's Knight said reluctantly, sensing that Ciaran was dreading the answer.

The answer hit Ciaran hard, as he felt the strength flee from his legs. His knees buckled and he felt himself slump downwards.

"Ciaran!" Darlton called out as he quickly dashed forward, taking hold of Ciaran's arm to stop him fully hitting the floor. The man lifted him up as Nonette quickly brought a chair for him to sit on before Darlton set him down on.

"Are you all right?" Euphemia asked, moving to stand near the Briton.

"I... I..." Ciaran started repeating in a mantra, ready to give a voice to what his mind was telling him: ' _I killed them._ '

"You didn't kill them, Ciaran." Cornelia said, the sound of her voice causing Ciaran's head to snap up to look at her as she pre-empted what he was going to say. "You took a gamble, a pretty large gamble, and while it paid off for a short time, it quickly turned against you. That's a fact of life for a military officer."

Looking at the seated Princess, Ciaran saw that she was staring directly at him.

"It was the Black Knights and the JLF who took their lives, not you. A commander cannot be burdened by any guilt he might feel from the deaths of the men under his command. The best he can do is to foster any remorse from their deaths in to righteous fury he can use against the enemy."

Cornelia's tone showed that she knew what she was talking about, but the words did little to assuage Ciaran's guilt. Forcing himself to sit upright in the chair, the young man leaned forward as he put his head in to his hands before sighing.

"These past few days have not been in my favour, have they?" He asked no-one in particular, although the hand rubbing the back of shoulders was a welcome feeling, even if he didn't know who it belonged to.

"Do you want us to carry on, Ciaran?" Darlton asked.

"I think that Ciaran gets the picture, General." Cornelia replied for him, the sound of her voice drawing nearer telling Ciaran that she had moved from her chair. Looking up from between his hands, Ciaran saw that she was standing in front of her desk. Seeing her eyes locked on him, Ciaran could only nod his head.

"If it's all right with you, Princess," Ciaran said, slowly pushing himself from the chair to stand to his full height. "I'd like to get some sleep."

"It's no worries, Ciaran." The Princess said, nodding her head before moving back to sit behind her desk. "I've still got work to do, so everyone apart from Guilford is dismissed for the night."

Bowing in respect, everyone else exited the room, leaving the Princess and her Knight alone in the office. Ciaran wasn't sure what happened after he left the office, the few short minutes passing by like a blur until he found himself in his personal room. Even though he had only been away from it for a day, being inside it felt more reassuring than any other room in the Palace.

Shedding his clothes, he dressed in a simple, white sleeveless vest and a pair of red tartan pyjama bottoms before moving to prepare himself for sleep. He was in the middle of brushing his teeth when he heard the door to his room open and close shut. Spitting out the paste in his mouth and dropping the brush in to the sink, he quickly moved out in to the main area of his room to find Dorothea standing near his bed. She had changed out of her more impressive Knightly gear to wear a simple white and blue dressing gown. Her hair black hair, usually done up in a bun and ponytail worn on her right side, was loose and flowing, easily reaching past her shoulders.

"Dorothea?" Ciaran asked, before suddenly becoming self conscious of the fact that he still had toothpaste around his mouth, as he busily set to rubbing off the white foam with his hand. "Umm. What are you doing here?"

"I got worried about you." Dorothea replied, looking at him. "You took that last bit of news quite hard and I wanted to make sure you're all right."

Finished cleaning himself up, Ciaran let out a smile at the gesture. "Oh. Thank you. That's... that's very kind of you."

Dorothea nodded her head before she moved closer to the bed. "Also, and I hope you don't think I'm being rude, but I was wondering..."

"Yes?" Ciaran asked, confused at what the female Knight was getting at.

"If you wouldn't object, to me spending the night with you."

His jaw didn't drop, but Ciaran definitely felt his eyes widen.

"It's not that I think you should be alone!" Dorothea quickly added, her cheeks seeming to redden with just a shade of pink. "It also won't be anything unfitting of either of our stations. I am wearing pyjamas."

She loosened the front of her dressing gown and opened it, showing that she was wearing a set of white and blue pyjamas.

"It's just that Andreas and Euphemia told me about how you arrived in Area 11, and I got a bit worried that, with the news you just got, that might make you a bit..."

The lady Knight's words trailed off as she realised that she was rambling, which made Ciaran chuckle slightly.

"Thank you, Dorothea." He finally said, smiling softly at her. "Let me finish in the bathroom then I'll help set up the room for you."

Dorothea nodded as Ciaran turned round and walked in to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth. Throughout the whole act, the young man couldn't help but notice that he could feel his heart thumping loudly in his chest the whole time. Although he attributed it down to the shock of someone entering his room unannounced.

Spitting the last remnants of the toothpaste and water he swigged from the small glass on the sink top, he quickly applied some spray-on deodorant, just to be sure, before switching off the bathroom light and walking in to the main room.

The lights were off except for the bedside lamp, while Dorothea was sitting next to the lamp in the bed, propped up against the headrest.

"Oh." Was all Ciaran said on the matter.

"Something wrong, Ciaran?" The Knight of Four asked, tilting her head slightly. He wasn't sure why he noticed it, but Ciaran swore that her skin glowed faintly from the lamp's bulb.

Opening his mouth, ready to point out that Dorothea was sitting in his bed, Ciaran thought back to what had past for a bed for him the previous night.

"No, nothing." Ciaran said, shaking his head as he walked towards the bed. "You just took me by surprise is all."

Dorothea nodded her head as Ciaran climbed under the covers, reaching out to the bedside lamp. "Just say when."

Moving fully under the sheets, Ciaran nodded his head. "Okay, go for it."

The click of the lamp switching off preceded the room being plunged in to darkness. Ciaran's eyes weren't fully adjusted to the low light, but he could easily make out Dorothea moving fully underneath the covers.

"Hey, Dorothea?"

The woman 'hmm'-ed in reply.

"Thank you."

The soft pressure of her lips touching his forehead told Ciaran that she was happy with his words and, despite himself, he found that he was happy with it too.

Before he fully drifted into sleeps embrace, Ciaran noted that his heart wasn't beating as fast as it had been a few minutes before.

* * *

 **AN: I was SO close to missing the monthly deadline! SO CLOSE!**

 **Yeah, this chapter nearly came out late. I lost my job on January 10th so I've had to go back on Job Seekers which, with the way it's set up, means that the I have do to an allotted amount of hours of job searching each week. And retail chains aren't hiring this time of the year so... yeah.**

 **Not much to say on this chapter really. I was also in a bit of a rush to publish, so there may be a few mistakes in spelling and grammar, but I swear I'll clean that up tomorrow.**

 **Oh, also (before I forget) but someone did ask how you pronounce Ciaran (for those who aren't sure). It's pronounced 'key-run' (that's just it simplified). Just to avoid confusion.**

 **So, as usual, read, enjoy, review and if you have anything to say on the chapter, or story in general, than don't be afraid to send me a PM.**


	19. Chapter 19

Ciaran wasn't sure what woke him up the morning following his return back to Viceroy's Palace. It might have been the soft warmth from the sun coming in through the window and curtains, bathing him in the morning light. It might have been the sound of several of the Palace staff walking around outside his room, their voices rising in gentle pitch as they conversed to each other before receding in to the distance.

Or, as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes and lifted his head up from the pillow, it might have been the small but slowly spreading puddle of drool coming from the mouth of the still sleeping Dorothea Ernst, the famed and feared Knight of Four. Looking down past her head, Ciaran saw that she had wrapped an arm across the lower part of his chest and was hugging his entire left side.

' _I must be a heavier sleeper than I thought._ ' Ciaran thought to himself, as he looked at how tightly Dorothea had wrapped herself around him. Although from the state of the blankets, her move to hold him had been quite recent. Either that or neither person had moved much during the night.

He had to admit to himself, seeing Dorothea in this state in the morning was certainly something else entirely. Even though he knew that she was a friendly person, but when Ciaran saw her dressed in the pristine white and blue uniform, she seemed to project a sort of aura that made her a bit fierce. He'd never say anything about it in case he offended her, but to him, it was there,

Looking down at her resting on his chest now though, she looked so much softer now. Gone were the hard lines her Knightly outfit gave her and gone was the fierce aura. In her white and blue pyjamas and with her hair down, a soft smile on her face as she hugged him like an oversized teddy bear, she looked totally at ease... and quite cute, if his opinion was asked.

The feeling of her drool coming through his t-shirt on to his skin made Ciaran grimace. Reaching over as carefully as he could, he used one of his fingers to gently brush under the side of Dorothea's mouth before gently moving it up to wipe at the string of drool coming from her mouth.

A soft murmur came from the sleeping Knight, prompting Ciaran to remove his hand quickly. Slowly, Dorothea's eyes opened, blinking out the built-up sleep. Moving slowly, she moved her head around a bit, taking in her surroundings.

"Good morning." Ciaran said softly, making Dorothea turn her head to look at him. As soon she looked at him, her eyes opened wider before she looked at what she was using as a pillow.

"Oh no..." Dorothea began before shooting upright, pushing the covers off both of them.

Ciaran tried to suppress the smile that came to his face as he watched Dorothea's cheeks brighten slightly before her hands gripped tightly on to the t-shirt.

"Dorothea?" Ciaran asked, pushing himself to sit upright as he watched Dorothea's arms begin to tremble.

"I... I..." The copper-skinned woman began before she made to move out of the bed, frantically looking around for her dressing gown. "I should go now."

"Dorothea, wait!" Ciaran said, taking hold of her arm before she climbed out of the bed. The woman whipped her head around to look at him, her emerald eyes wide. "Wait. Wh-what's going on?"

Dorothea's mouth moved up and down slightly as she look at him, trying to formulate an answer. Her look of fear fell away as she turned her head to look away from him and Ciaran thought he saw... guilt on her face?

"I'm sorry, Ciaran. I did something I shouldn't have." Came Dorothea's reply in a low voice. From his angle, the only thing Ciaran could see of her face was obscured by her long hair, but he could see that her jaw was set tight. What he did notice though was that her hands, hands which she had not removed from her chest the whole time and which were still gripping his shirt tightly, were beginning to tremble ever so slightly.

After what seemed like an age, Ciaran reached forward and gently pried one of her hands off his chest before taking it in to his own, enclosing his other hand over the top of it.

"Dorothea." He said soothingly, attempting to calm her as best he could. "You and I are friends. Now, you know that you can tell me anything you need to tell me, and I will not judge you."

His words seemed to have the desired affect as, feeling it through his own hands, Dorothea's trembling slowed until it stopped altogether before she turned to look at him. It made Ciaran's heart flutter to see her smiling, but he could see the barest hints of tears in her eyes as she looked at him.

"Thank you, Ciaran." She said, smiling before the smile faded slightly. "There is something I need to tell you. But now is not the right time or place."

Shifting himself, Ciaran sat up straighter as Dorothea continued speaking.

"I do want to tell you, I really do. But what I have to say, I... I'm worried it might change things between us."

Rubbing his palm over the top of her hand, Ciaran nodded his head. "I understand."

The agreement seemed to calm Dorothea down as her smile returned. The ticking of the clock filled the room, the former tension being replaced by a new source of tension as the couple's eyes darted around the room, not settling on the other.

"Umm... Ciaran?" Dorothea asked, breaking the silence. "Can I have my hand back? I'd like to have a shower before breakfast."

"Huh... what?" The younger man replied, looking at her in confusion before looking down to see his hands surrounding hers, before his face went several shades of red at once. "Oh, right. Sorry."

Ciaran released his grip on her hand as Dorothea removed it, letting her soft skin slide over his palm, before he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

Not saying another word, the Lady Knight of Four stood up from the bed to step on to the carpet. Spying her dressing gown on a nearby chair, Dorothea moved towards it as Ciaran climbed off of the bed to stand up.

"So..." He began, watching as Dorothea pulled the garment closed before cinching the robes closed. "When do you want to talk about... the thing?"

"Sometime this evening, if that's all right." Dorothea replied, a small smile on her face. "I think I've got your number so I'll send you a message when I'm ready. Sound fair?"

"Whatever makes you feel comfortable, Dorothea." Ciaran replied.

Without another word, the Knight of Four move towards the door, putting her feet in to a pair of slippers she had cloistered beside the door. Sensing there wasn't much left to be said, Ciaran moved towards the bathroom as he heard the door open.

"Ciaran?" Dorothea called to him, her soft voice making him turn around to look at her.

"Yeah?"

The Lady Knight looked down at the floor for a few seconds before raising her head to look at him, the faintest hint of a blush on her face again. "You were a good pillow."

Before the young man could reply, Dorothea slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her, leaving Ciaran standing in the room in stunned silence.

"Okay, then." He said to no-one in particular, before the early morning urge to urinate overrode anything else his brain would try to tell him. Moving in to the adjoining bathroom, Ciaran began his morning routine of using the toilet, before brushing his teeth. He was part through contemplating whether to have a shower or not, his t-shirt hanging in his hands, when he heard his bedroom door open and shut again.

"Ciaran, are you in the bathroom?" Cornelia's voice came through the door.

"Yeah. Hang on." Ciaran replied, putting his t-shirt back on before exiting the bathroom. Sure enough, on the other side of the door and standing by his bed, was Cornelia, dressed in her usual attire consisting of a burgundy tunic, set with gold inlay over her chest and stomach, coupled with a pair of burgundy trousers tucked in to a pair of white riding boots. She had forgone her customary, white cape but the outfit was still completed by her usual white cravat.

"What's up?" He asked, wondering why Cornelia was in his room this early in the morning.

"I just passed Dorothea in the hall. She was wearing a dressing gown and pyjamas and she looked a little bit upset."

That was why.

"Yeah." Ciaran began, feeling very unsure about how to phrase what he was going to say. "Um... Dorothea came in to my room last night-"

"She did what?" Cornelia asked, looking incredibly shocked at the news.

"In her defence," The young man replied, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. "In her defence, we both wore pyjamas and the only reason she was here in the first place was because she... she was worried about how I reacted to the news about what happened at Narita with the Purists."

"So she slept with you?" Cornelia asked, obviously sceptical about the whole thing.

"Yes." He replied, realising with a small hint of finality that what he said did not sound plausible.

"What's the stain on your t-shirt?" The Second Princess asked, pointing at the spot on his clothing.

Looking down, Ciaran pursed his lips as he tried to figure out the best way to reply to her question.

"Dorothea ended up using me as a pillow. And, as it turns out... she drools."

Cornelia looked at the young man's chest, specifically the damp spot on his clothing, for a few seconds before her look of scrutiny turned to one of mirth, a smile creeping across her face.

"Okay, I believe you. I think I've gotten to know you well enough over the last month and I doubt you'd lie about something like that, Ciaran."

"Good to know." The young man said in reply as he looked the Princess, glad that he got Dorothea out of any potential trouble. "So was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

The happiness fell from his face though as he saw Cornelia put her hands on to her hips, her face taking on a serious mask again as she looked at him before she spoke.

"Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about. I would have liked to have discussed it with you last night, but now seems as good a time as any."

Ciaran cocked one of his eyebrows at Cornelia as she continued speaking.

"I know you said that you were willing to give me some insight in to your worlds military strategies and tactics, and I was thinking that, even after you told us them, we'd still be out of the loop on what to do."

"Okay..." Ciaran said, unknowingly interrupting the Princess, who carried on regardless.

"So, I have decided that two things will happen: the first being that you will give me, Darlton and Guilford as presentation on what you know, and secondly, you will be given command of your own specialist unit to carry out the tactics you will have told us."

Ciaran couldn't believe his ears.

"My... my own unit?" He asked, dumbfounded.

Cornelia nodded her head. "It won't be anything large. You'll be in charge of twenty-seven men, twenty-eight including you, with an equal number of Knightmares."

"But... but what about what happened at Narita?" Ciaran asked, starting to sound panicked.

"Ciaran, I said this before. You were not responsible for their deaths."

"But I might as well have been!" The young man retorted, his voice coming out much louder and angrier then he intended it to. The Princess was certainly taken aback by his shift in tone but she recovered quickly as, moving forward, she put a hand on Ciaran's shoulder and guided him down to sit on the bed before joining him.

"I know how you feel. I've been in the same situation you have. Not just me, but Darlton too. All good commanders will have been in this situation where they feel unworthy of commanding troops because of one bad mission. It happens."

Ciaran looked at Cornelia as she continued speaking.

"But we can't let that doubt consume us. A commander who values his soldiers and is valued by them too is a blessing that any army should have. Yet at the same time, we must be willing to command the thing we value to fight and die. It's the curse of being a good officer."

"I sense this is coming from personal experience?" Ciaran said with a wry smile.

The Princess nodded her head solemnly. "My first action as an officer was in Area 9..." She paused as she looked at the look of confusion on Ciaran's face. "What do you call the island near Australia? The big one."

"Oh, New Zealand." Ciaran said, realising what she was talking about.

"Yeah, there. Anyway, that was my first combat action with a platoon of my own. Royal Panzer Infantry, but this was before the One Month War, so not all of us were given Glasgows."

Ciaran couldn't help but wince at her pronunciation of Glasgow. 'gow' instead of 'go' but he ignored it as she continued her story, turning her head to look at her boots.

"I and a few of the other officers were lucky. We got given Glasgows, but the rest of the platoon were given APCs. We had to assault an enemy held position in the mountains. How well do you think armoured units to against an entrenched enemy in mountains, Ciaran?"

"If I remember my reading," Ciaran replied, "It was never nice."

Cornelia nodded her head solemnly. "Our intelligence reports were faulty, so we ended up attacking an area we thought was lightly defended but the enemy was there in force. We got pushed back, but not before I lost nearly two thirds of my platoon. Do you know what happens when an armoured vehicle brews up?"

"Yeah. I know." Ciaran said solemnly, knowing what Cornelia was referring to.

'Brewing up' was the most feared aspect of being in an armoured crew. Simply put, it was an euphemism for a catastrophic kill when enemy fire hit a tank or armoured vehicle in such a manner that the tank's engine would detonate in such a way that the crew compartments of the tank were engulfed in flames. This would then result in the ammunition exploding, but not before the crew inside had burned to death.

It was awful to think of it happening to tanks, but to armoured personnel carriers? It just didn't bare thinking about.

"I was despondent." Cornelia continued. "Our intelligence had failed us horribly, but I viewed the failure as my own. Even after we completed the invasion and brought Area 9 in to the Empire, I was still hated myself for what happened."

"How many years ago was this?" Ciaran asked.

"It was three years before the One Month War, so ten years ago."

"And now?"

"Now what?" Cornelia asked, looking up at him.

"Now how do you feel about it?"

The Second Princess was silent for a moment as she looked at him before looking past him at a spot on the wall only she could see.

"I still see it as a failure. But I think I can honestly say that my victories on the battlefield outweigh the failures."

Ciaran nodded at her words. "While my track record is one win, one loss and one draw."

Cornelia let out a small chuckle at his phrasing. "A good record to start with if you don't mind me saying."

The young man joined in with the Princess' mirth, chuckling at her words.

"If you want," Cornelia said, her tone a lot softer now. "We can start you off with a single squad instead of a platoon. You can choose your own subordinate officer and you'll be getting to pick which regiment you can transfer the squad from. Sound fair?"

Ciaran nodded in agreement. "Okay."

Cornelia put her hand on his leg, giving it a soft pat as she smiled at him before standing up.

"That was all I needed to talk to you about. Come join us for breakfast when you're ready. Make sure you dress in your uniform."

"My uniform?" Ciaran asked, looking at her in confusion.

Cornelia snapped her fingers in realization before hitting her forehead lightly with two of her fingers. "Ah, that was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. You, myself, Guilford and Darlton are going to pay a visit to the Camelot group. We're going to see a man about a new Knightmare."

"Ah, awesome." Ciaran said, a smile coming to his face before he remembered what Dorothea said to him.

" _Sometime this evening, if that's all right_."

"Um... how long do you think we'll be?" He asked hesitantly.

Cornelia shrugged. "Shouldn't be more than a couple of hours. Why?"

The young man wasn't sure what to say. She hadn't given any hints, but to him, Dorothea had sounded like she had wanted her meeting with him to be secret.

"Well... it's just that I'd like to get started on the new squad rota as quickly as possible. That's all."

The older woman looked at him for a few seconds, making Ciaran resist the temptation to swallow in fear, although that feeling quickly passed as Cornelia nodded her head.

"Fair enough. Now, as I said: get changed in to your uniform, come down for breakfast, then we can get ready to show you your new toy."

Nodding his head, Ciaran watched as Cornelia turned around and headed out of the room. When the door was shut and he was certain that no-one else would barge in ( _'seriously, did these people not know how to knock?'_ He thought to himself), he let himself drop backwards on to the bed, bring his hands up to cover his eyes as he let out an exasperated sigh.

Out of all of the days he had been in Area 11, this day was certainly shaping up to be the most trying days of his time here.

* * *

Sitting at one of the large computer banks in the area of the Tokyo Settlement University specially set aside for the Britannian Special Research Division, or Camelot as it was colloquially known, Cécile was not in the best of moods. Outwardly, she didn't show it. She had admit that she had become a bit of savant at hiding her more serious emotions. To the other members of Camelot, she was the perfect image of calm, although inwardly she was ready to snap at anything.

Around her, the various technicians went about their work, moving underneath the gantries that surrounded the kneeling forms of the Lancelot and it's sister unit, the Lancelot Club, two white Knightmares taking up a good portion of the space in the admittedly large room. The cables that would not have normally connected them to their external power supplies had been removed and the two machines just sat there, waiting silently.

Looking at the clock display in the corner of the computer screen, she inwardly scowled at the time.

10:22

They had Viceroy Cornelia's command staff coming in just over half an hour. And, as usual, Lloyd was doing nothing about it! Looking round past her computer screen, she could see the lavender haired scientist typing away at his own computer terminal.

"Lloyd, is everything set for the Viceroy's arrival?" She asked, expecting the man's trademark, flippant, non-responsive answer.

"Yes, yes, Cécile. Everything is ready." Lloyd replied in his usual sing-song voice.

That was not the answer she expected to hear.

"The information binders are all prepared?"

Lloyd put his hand on to a stack of beige binders near the side of his computer.

"The test date too?"

"All ready to go."

"What about the projected expenses for the next year?"

Lloyd held up a couple of sheets of paper held together by a paper-clip for Cécile to see.

The indigo-haired woman was stunned. "Who are you and what you done with Lloyd?"

The scientist looked at her in shock before he burst in to laughter. "How can you say that, Cécile?"

"Lloyd, as long as I've known you," Cécile said in exasperation, "You have never put as much effort in to... well, in to anything as you have now."

The scientist shrugged. "Well... it's just one of those days."

Cécile nodded at his logic before returning to her computer screen. She began typing away at her keyboard, working on various sets of numbers to do with power input and output for the Lancelot and it's sister unit before she stopped, her hands hovering over the keyboard.

"Where's Suzaku?"

Looking around the area, both adults realised that they were missing the pilot for the Lancelot.

"I think he's at school, Major." One of the tech crews said, looking up from their work.

"Doesn't he know we've got an inspection today?" Cécile asked, standing up from her chair to find her phone. She needed to contact the teenager as quickly as possible.

"I'm here, everyone." The voice of the teenager in question called out as he entered through a pair of elevator doors, causing Cécile to turn around. Looking at the Japanese youth, dressed in a smart black jacket with gold trim and black trousers, complete with a small, brown briefcase, he looked like the textbook image of a student in a Britannian high school. "Please don't tell me I'm late."

Cécile couldn't help but smile when Suzaku walked towards the two Britannians as Lloyd spoke up.

"If you were late, you'd know about it." The scientist said with a grin as he stood up from his chair.

"We've got just over half an hour until the Viceroy and her staff arrive, Suzaku." Cécile said, giving Lloyd the stink-eye out the corner of her gaze.

Nodding his head, the Japanese youth moved towards them, setting his briefcase on top of a low table.

"Do remember what you have to do for this inspection, Suzaku?" The woman asked.

"I do, Miss Cécile. I'm to get dressed in to my uniform, stand near the Lancelot and to keep quiet unless spoken to." Suzaku said matter-of-factly, which made Cécile frown. Seeing her discomfort, Suzaku smiled gently. "Don't worry about it. It's basically the same thing I was trained to do when I was in the infantry, Miss Cécile, and also what my father taught me do to."

The woman nodded her head, but she still didn't like seeing Suzaku take such things so easily. She wasn't sure whether it was because of his upbringing, his training, or just both, but seeing him act so subservient didn't sit well with Cécile.

Lloyd however was oblivious her feelings.

"Splendid. Best to get changed in to your pilot suit and wait in the loading area, Suzaku. The Viceroy doesn't think that highly of you already as it is."

"Do you think he could be removed as the pilot of the Lancelot?" Cécile asked in shock as she spun to look at him, prompting Lloyd to shrug.

"We're officially under the command of the Second Princes, Schneizel, but I wouldn't put it past her to have him removed if she wanted to. Especially after what happened at Narita."

Cécile winced at the name of the battle. The day had started out so well for them, at least for the soldiers anyway. They had nearly got theirs hands on the JLF, had nearly achieved victory. But then the Black Knights had appeared. And by bringing down the mountainside of all things.

Lloyd has sussed it quickly. They had somehow gotten their hands on Rakshata's Radiant Wave Technology to superheat the water veins in the mountain which caused a landslide which swept away so many Britannian units as well as elements of the JLF.

Things then went from bad to worse shortly afterwards. The Black Knights attacked en masse, cutting off the Viceroy's personal guard and surrounding her while at the same time, the JLF regrouped for a counter-attack. With Cornelia cut off and the Black Knights set ready to capture her, it seemed like they had lost.

Luckily, Euphemia had authorized the Lancelot to mobilise and rescue Cornelia, the white Knightmare fighting in personal combat against the Black Knight's strange red frame, even managing to push it back over a cliff edge with it's VARIS rifle, allowing the Viceroy to escape and forcing Zero to try and escape.

It was there things went wrong again. None of them had seen it happen, but it seemed that Suzaku had cornered Zero at a point in the mountain, then he had just... lost it. He began screaming hysterically, about what no-one really knew. When the military units sent to apprehend Zero arrived at the designated position, they found only the terrorist's wrecked Knightmare and the Lancelot and it's pilot frozen in place. Suzaku was unresponsive the whole time, leaving the tech crews little choice but to move the Lancelot by heavy lift gear and even then, Suzaku couldn't be removed from the Lancelot's pilot block. They had to end up putting him under to make him release his death-grip on the control sticks.

Since then, Suzaku hadn't really responded to any questioning and had been solely focused on his work with the Lancelot.

"Right then." Lloyd said, turning the mood in the room a complete 180, thankfully, as he moved close to the young man. "You go and get changed. We'll get this done quickly and painlessly."

Suzaku looked ready to protest before Lloyd began pushing him towards the changing room. Realising that he wouldn't be able to protest, the Japanese youth relented and quickly walked towards the room indicated.

When he was out of earshot, Lloyd turned to look at Cécile, the same, persistent smile still on his face, but this time, it lacked any humour in it.

"You're not going to get him to talk about what happened. You do know that, right?"

Cécile dropped her eyes slightly before snapping them up to look at the man before her.

"It's not healthy if he keeps it bottled up, though."

"True, true." Lloyd said with a shrug. "But the simple matter is that he won't talk it about. I doubt even you ordering him to tell you could help him."

Cécile looked sullen at Lloyd's words.

"He's a hard headed boy, and nothing that you do or say will change his mind. You might as well stop trying to make him pour out his feelings."

The woman didn't say anything in reply before she moved back to her computer screen. Lloyd, for all of his general bluntness, was right. Suzaku was certainly not the most forthright person at the best of times. Even talking about school-work outside of homework was difficult at times, so Cécile knew that trying to get him to say something about emotional trauma would be definite uphill struggle.

"Besides!" Lloyd said as he returned to his own computer. "It doesn't seem to be affecting him in the slightest. None of his tests showed any abnormalities, so we should just let him live with whatever demons are haunting him."

Cécile was torn between rolling her eyes at Lloyd's flippant remark or to throw something at him. She settled on the former, purely to avoid getting in trouble with the Viceroy when she arrived. Stifling her disgust at the man's remark, she settled in once again to working on her computer screen, getting the last of the data packets ready for transfer back to the Homeland.

A few short minutes later, Suzaku arrived back in the room, dressed in his dark orange uniform and wearing a dark blue beret on his head.

"You look very smart, Suzaku." Cécile said, turning to look at the Japanese youth.

Before he had a chance to reply, a loud buzzer went off near the elevator at the wall, signalling that someone was trying to contact them over the intercom.

"Professor Asplund?" Came a voice tinged with a bit of panic and static. "Are you there?"

Walking over jauntily to the intercom, Lloyd pushed the button to talk in to it. "What's the matter now?"

"Uh, sir... the Viceroy's party has arrived."

"What?!" Lloyd practically screamed in to the intercom, not waiting for an answer as he turned to the room behind him. "The Viceroy's here!"

The room's occupants were stunned at the news, looking at Lloyd for what to do. Cécile looked around the room: the state it was in was certainly clean enough. The masses of paper usually seen around the computers were tidied up and the least important ones had been disposed of. The thick cables connecting the banks of computers together were laying where they always lay. They were too large to shift so the technicians did their best to try and move them in a way that wouldn't result in anyone tripping over them, which practically meant just budging them a little to the side.

Giving everything a cursory glance, it seemed that everything was in order for an inspection.

"All right!" Cécile called out while clapping her hands at the same time, focusing everyone's attention on her. "We've done this before so this nothing new. Places everyone!"

"Yes, ma'am!" The orange suited technicians called out with military precision as they hurriedly moved to stand near their preassigned stations. Suzaku sped off to take his place underneath the gantry in front of the Lancelot, while Lloyd made to stand near the entrance to the elevator, Cécile taking her place beside him.

"Just to check." Cécile said as she looked at Lloyd through the corner of her eye. "Is everything ready?"

"Of course!" Lloyd said, genuinely sounding hurt. "I do want to get this other with as quickly as possible though."

The woman nodded her head. The quicker inspections were done, the better. Although one thing was niggling at her head.

"Lloyd?" The scientist turned his head to look at her. "Did you buzz them back to say that they can come down?"

"... Oops." The man replied before quickly walking over to the intercom. As he pressed the button and spoke in to the receiver, Cécile did the only thing she could do with her frustration as the situation allowed: put her hand to her forehead and roll her eyes.

* * *

Standing in the descending elevator, the noise of the steel box moving down to it's destination filled the air. It's four occupants stood in two pairs, Cornelia and Guilford in the front with Darlton and Ciaran bringing up the rear, the Briton carrying a small duffel-bag on his shoulder. The Princess and her Knight were in engaged in quiet discussion over a small data-pad that Guilford held in his hands, leaving the General and the young Captain to talk between the two of them.

Which is what would have happened but this time, the young Briton was unusually quiet and it had Darlton worried.

Looking down to his left, the scarred general saw that Ciaran was looking directly ahead of him at a point on the wall just past Guilford's head. Darlton could see that he wasn't standing still either, gently rocking forwards and backwards on the balls of his heels. He wasn't in pain from his injury. That had been treated well enough and covered by a special plater to match his skin tone, just for appearances sake over anything else.

He had something on his mind, that much was obvious.

Darlton had noticed it at breakfast. Ciaran had been the last to arrive, taking his customary place next to the general, had ordered a small breakfast and had eaten it in silence. The young man had only responded to questions asked of him with short, curt answers. It had only been the actions of Princess Euphemia to get Ciaran to speak more than a handful of words, asking him about how his sleeping arrangements at the Black Knights' hideout compared to those at the palace.

The young man's reaction to a perfectly innocent question certainly was something that Darlton did not expect as, taking a sip from his orange juice, Ciaran ended up spitting his drink back in to the glass violently at the question.

The various reactions around the table were the ones to be expected: Darlton and the two Princess recoiled in surprise as Ciaran finished coughing in to his drink, Guilford and Dorothea looked confused while Nonette just roared with laughter.

"S-sorry about that, everyone." The young man said, coming down from his coughing fit by lightly tapping his chest with his fist. "I think it's just a case of a summer cold."

Reaching over, Darlton softly patted the young man on the back. As he did, he was certain that he saw the young man look quickly around the table, which took the man by surprise.

After a quick change in uniform, which had gotten a bit of splash-back from the drink, and the order to pack his pilot suit in to a bag, the quartet moved to the Palace's garage to take one of the staff-cars to the Tokyo Settlement University, joined by an armoured car to keep the route clear.

"Euphemia will be staying behind with Nonette and Dorothea. One of us needs to remain behind as viceroy after all." Cornelia had said as she climbed in to the car.

The short journey to the university had been silent, very similar to Darlton's first trip to the institute with the young man but this time, there was no question from Ciaran to break the silence. Even the trip in to the elevator was too quiet and it was driving Darlton mad.

Reaching down, the General tapped Ciaran on the shoulder, snapping him from his stupor to look at the larger man in surprise.

"General?"

"What's up with you, Ciaran?" He asked as quietly as he could.

Ciaran looked down at his feet, his mouth closing as a look of consternation came to his face before he spoke.

"I've... Cornelia told me about her idea of giving me my own unit and I'm not feeling one hundred percent about it, sir."

The General nodded his head. It was a classic case of jitters to have something like that put on a person. It was even worse for Ciaran since Darlton knew that the Briton was having to learn all of these things on the fly, unlike the General himself who had benefited from an officer's education.

Moving his arm, Darlton put his hand on to Ciaran's furthest shoulder and pulled the young man towards him. The young man let out a small 'gah' in surprise before he realised that the General was giving him a hug.

"General?" Ciaran asked, looking up at the General in confusion.

"You've done very well these past few weeks, but never feel like you should take these sorts of things on by yourself." Darlton said, his smile scrunching up the large scar on his face. "If you ever need advice, come and ask me. Okay?"

The young man didn't say anything in reply, only letting his look of confusion morph in to a wide smile.

"Advice for anything?"

Darlton nodded his head. "Anything."

He didn't return the hug, but instead, Ciaran lightly rapped his knuckle against the General's chest.

"I'll hold you to that, big guy." The Captain said happily.

Darlton's look morphed in to a confused smile and opened his mouth ready to retort. A quick, sharp cough filled the space, making both Darlton's and Ciaran's heads snap forward to see Guilford and Cornelia looking at them. The former looked confusion while the latter was smiling at the display.

"Oh, don't mind us." The Princess said. "It's a shame we didn't bring Nonette with us though. She'd love this."

The mention of the Knight of Nine reacting to the tender moment between the two men filled both of them with dread as they quickly disengaged from the other, standing back to parade rest, willing the blood to go from their faces as the elevator pinged to announce they had arrived.

With the ease that came from numerous years of practice, the elder trio changed their visages to blank masks as the doors to the elevator opened, revealing the large room used by the Special Research Division. Thankfully, Ciaran was hidden behind Guilford, letting him hide his still reddened face.

Looking past the protrusions on the top of Cornelia's cloak, Darlton could see Professor Asplund and his assistant, Major Croomy, standing a good few paces in front of the elevator exit. Behind them, were their assembled staff, waiting quietly for the inspection to begin.

"Viceroy Cornelia!" The lavender-haired scientist, stepping forward to sweep his arms before him, bowing deeply as the Princess exited the elevator, followed by her entourage. "It is a pleasure to have you here with us."

"I'm here for business, Asplund." Cornelia said flatly, looking at the man with a simple stare. "I'm just here to supervise my brother's pet project, so let's get this over with, shall we?"

Darlton couldn't suppress the smile that came to his face that the eccentric scientist didn't react to Cornelia's disinterest in his greeting, as Professor Asplund began the tour of the facility.

It was the bog-standard inspection for this sort of facility: checking their outputs against their power usage and finances and, most of all, the Lancelot. Even if it's pilot had locked up at Narita and let Zero escape, the Lancelot was still a viable Knightmare frame.

"When can you get the data on the Lancelot to the Homeland?" Cornelia asked, standing looking at the large white and gold machine.

"It's hard to say, your Highness." Cécile said, standing near one of the large computer banks. "Your brother, Prince Schneizel, wants us to gather more data from various combat situations. Factor in the fact that we basically have to ration our sakuradite between the Lancelot and it's sister frame, plus the fact that both units require a substantial energy output to operate, we can't really test it with the standard core luminous."

Darlton nodded his head as Cornelia bent down slightly to get a better look at one of the computer displays. Energy output to input was always a problem if prototype versus mainstream productions. All military vehicles suffered from it: the tank, the fighter yet and of course the Knightmare.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught the general's attention as he turned to see Ciaran standing near a teenage Japanese boy in a military uniform, Kururugi, Darlton reminded himself. They seemed to be talking to each other as amicably as their respective ranks permitted: a warrant-officer with a captain of the Royal Guard, but it was nice to see the pair chuckle slightly at something Ciaran said, his duffel-bag on the floor by his feet.

He turned back to look at Professor Asplund as he began talking about some new addition to the Lancelot before a loud cry echoed through the room.

"WHAT?!"

All eyes turned to look at where the exclamation came from, which was Ciaran standing in front of a very shocked looking Kururugi.

"What's going on?" Guilford asked the general, who could only shrug in confusion as he listened intently to the young duo's conversation.

"Say that again, Suzaku, because I really hope it was my ears playing a trick on me." Ciaran asked irritably as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"The... the Lancelot doesn't have an ejection system." Kururugi replied, a little bit flustered and shocked by the Briton's outburst before.

Shaking his head in exasperation, Ciaran turned to look at the General and the rest of the Britannians, holding his arms out in a gesture that said 'what the hell?'.

"Did you hear that? The Lancelot's not got an ejection system." The young man said, fixing a stare at the professor as he dropped his arms.

"Is this true, Professor Asplund?" Guilford asked the lanky scientist, who looked quite flustered by the sudden attention. Luckily for the lavender-haired man, it was Cécile again who spoke up.

"My lord, it is true that the Lancelot does lack an ejection system." The indigo-haired woman said in a placating tone. "Regretfully, this is because we were unable to get the components on the Lancelot to a smaller size to facilitate the ejection system."

Ciaran looked ready to speak up again, but Cornelia quickly cut him off.

"General Darlton, I think it best that you take Captain Forsyth to get ready for the next part of the inspection. Professor Asplund, shall we continue?"

The scientist agreed to the request as Darlton walked over to the young man who look quite aggravated.

"No bloody ejection system..." Ciaran muttered as the general walked up next to him. Rolling his eyes, Darlton put a large hand on to the Briton's shoulder.

"There's no helping it now, Ciaran. Come on, let's get ready." Darlton said with a small smile before turning to look at the Japanese warrant-officer next to his young friend. "Warrant-officer Kururugi? Where are the changing rooms?"

"Follow me, sir, I'll show you the way." The Japanese youth said, indicating the two should follow him, which they did after Ciaran picked up the duffel-bag from the floor beside him before the trio walked through a door ensconced in to a nearby wall.

Going through the door, the trio walked in silence for a while until Kururugi showed them to a door marked CHANGING ROOM, which he proceeded to open, allowing the royal guardsman and the general to enter.

"I'll be out here if you need anything, sirs." Kururugi said, nodding his head in a salute before he exited the room, letting the door close behind him, leaving the two officers in the room together.

In the silence, Ciaran moved to an area near some tall metal lockers, depositing his bag on top of a wooden bench before beginning to change out of his uniform.

"So what's this second part of the inspection, sir?" Ciaran asked as he removed his deep maroon jacket, folding it neatly before placing it on to the bench. "I wasn't told anything."

"Yeah, sorry about that." Darlton said with a shrug. "We really should keep your abreast of what's going on, I promise. But anyway, what we've got planned is to replace the Gloucester you lost at Narita."

"I didn't loose it, sir," Ciaran said as he turned, removing his under-shirt. "It got blown up."

The scarred general shook his head at the joke. "Not funny, Ciaran."

Ciaran shrugged as he continued removing his clothes, setting them all on the bench beside the duffel-bag before removing his drab green pilot suit.

"Darlton, can I ask you something?" The young man said out of the blue, although Darlton was ready for him to speak up again. "It's about Kallen."

Now that he wasn't ready for. "What about her?"

"What's going to happen to her?" The young man asked, his pilot suit pulled up over his legs to his waist.

"We'll probably be keeping tags on her for a while. Why do you ask?"

Ciaran looked guilty for a few seconds, not looking at Darlton in the eye as he slid his arms in to his pilot suit. "I... I was wondering if we could maybe... let Kallen off the hook a bit."

"What?" Darlton roared, more in surprise than in anger.

"I just..." Ciaran began speaking. "I just think that Kallen's not in the right frame of mind, especially after what happened to her mother and Zero's taking advantage of her. She's a good girl, but she can't see she's being used."

Darlton opened his mouth to say something but he shut it as he thought on the young man's words. It was true that out of the two of them, Ciaran had been the one to spend the most time with Kallen, so he did have to take Ciaran's words at face value. But remembering what Kallen had been like when the general had talked to her at Nagano, the young man's words made some sense.

Being the child of a Britannian noble and a native Eleven would make Kallen's life a hard one, even if she lead the life of an aristocrat. She would have to keep her non-Britannian side a secret for practically her entire life. And if she decided to stick to her native roots, well... many of the Numbers that lived in the ghettos weren't too forgiving of people sired by a Britannian.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Darlton thought on what the young man said.

"All right. I'll see what can be done," The general grumbled out as he uncrossed his arms, before pointing a finger at Ciaran. "But if anything happens, you're responsible. Got it?"

"Understood, sir." The young man said with a smile as he zipped up his pilot suit before moving to replaced his boots over his feet.

When the young man was ready, he and Darlton left exited the room in to the hallway, Kururugi still standing at his place outside the door, before showing the two officers the direction to the assembly area.

The walk wasn't quiet as the Japanese warrant-officer struck up a conversation with the young captain.

"Captain Forsyth, would it be wrong of me to invite you to have drinks with me at some point?"

Darlton perked his ears up at what Ciaran's answer would be.

"You mean as in outside of work, right?" The Briton asked. "No uniforms, no talk of work?"

"Yes, sir." Kururugi replied expectantly.

Darlton didn't turn his head fully, just a bit so he could see out of the corner of his eye. This allowed him to see Ciaran nod his head yes before smiling gently at the Japanese youth.

"All right then." Ciaran said. "After this whole thing, I'll give you my mobile number so you can call me to arrange a time and place. Sound good?"

Darlton turned his head to look ahead of him, smiling as he heard Kururugi voice his agreement to the idea as the trio exited in to the assembly area.

It didn't surprise the general that the majority of the space in the room was taken up by the form of the kneeling Knightmare. Called the Lancelot Club, as Darlton remembered what he read in the original briefing, it was a white and blue machine, built from left over bits from the original Lancelot.

It looked impressive to Darlton, but his opinion on the machine wasn't what mattered. He wasn't the one who was going to be piloting it.

Although looking at Ciaran's face, the young man didn't seem impressed.

"Do you not like it, Captain Forsyth?" Cornelia asked as she appeared behind Darlton, taking the trio by surprise, although the Briton kept his eyes mainly on the Lancelot Club.

"Permission to speak freely, your Highness?" The young man asked, looking at the Princess out of the corner of his eye.

"Of course. I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't want your opinion."

"Well. In my opinion... it looks like a fucking bullet magnet."

"Oh, jeez." Darlton said as he put his hand to his forehead before stifling a chuckle that came to his throat.

"It is though." Ciaran said incredulously, looking at the Princess as he pointed at the Lancelot Club. "Front-line military vehicles should not be blue and white! And don't even get me started on the bloody horn."

Darlton couldn't help but shake his head as he fought the chuckling fit that came on to him.

The moment passed however as the general heard a pair of footsteps advancing towards them quickly. Removing his hand from his head, Darlton turned to see Professor Asplund advancing towards them, a mildly aggravated look on his face, with Cécile a few paces behind.

"What's all the hullabaloo about... Oh, it's you again." The look on the scientist's face became almost downright hostile as his eyes locked on to Ciaran. "Come to mock another of my inventions, Captain?"

"If you want to call it 'mocking', that's your prerogative. I just don't want to be addled with a machine that will as sooner make me the target for every gun the enemy has than it will keep me alive."

Asplund put his hands on to his hips as he stared Ciaran down. "What does it matter what colour it is? It's speed will more than make up for it."

Ciaran was ready to retort, the words ready on his lips, before Cornelia cut in. "How easy would it be to repaint the Lancelot Club, Professor Asplund?"

Cécile spoke up, pre-empting any words from the lavender-haired scientist. "It won't be too hard to replace the paint scheme with one that Captain Forsyth wishes, your Highness."

"See?" The Princess said, forcing Ciaran to turn to look at her. "No problem at all. Let's get this over with."

Cornelia held her hand out beside her, palm up. Without a word, Guilford stepped forward and placed the data-pad in her hand. The Princess walked forward, past Darlton and the young men before standing in front of Cécile and Professor Asplund, holding the device out towards them.

"You'll find all the combat data we took from Captain Forsyth's training in the Sutherland and the Gloucester, along with what we could get from his fight at Narita."

"Of course, your Highness." Cécile said with a bow before taking the electronic device from her hand. "I'll get it hooked up to the computers and we can being the simulation."

Cornelia nodded her head before she turned to look at the young man. "Are you ready, Captain?"

Darlton watched as Ciaran turned his head to look at the kneeling Knightmare before turning back to look at the Princess. "Let's get this over with. Your Highness."

The general let out a small snort of laughter at the Briton's words as Ciaran walked towards the kneeling Knightmare and quickly climbing up the nearby ladder to get in to the cockpit block.

* * *

The simulation at the Camelot facilities ran for just a little over three hours. Inside the cockpit block of the Lancelot Club, Ciaran was put through various short timed scenarios, focusing on various aspects of Knightmare combat: Knightmare versus infantry, Knightmare versus Armoured Fighting Vehicles, Knightmare versus Knightmare and other combat scenarios.

At the end of the tests, the results were impressive. Scoring an eighty-seven percent on the initial testing with the Sutherland and Gloucester, Ciaran found piloting the Lancelot Club not just an easy experience, but an exhilarating one too. In the Knightmare versus Knightmare scenarios, he showed good aptitude in using the VARIS rifle to pick off units at long range, always aiming for those he saw as command units before moving in for the quick kill with the Maser Vibration Swords. Combat against AFVs was almost virtually the same, except relying more heavily on the VARIS than the MVS'.

Several problems were found to exist though. The Lancelot Club's VARIS could switch to a special modified sniper rifle variant, allowing him to hit targets at a longer range, but he found that it drained the Club's energy filler too quickly.

Another problem was in the anti-infantry simulations. While the VARIS was fully capable of short range, fully automatic bursts of fire, the Club lacked any form of dedicated anti-personnel weaponry like the hull mounted machine gun possessed by the Gloucesters or Sutherlands. Ciaran could still remember the moment of anger he felt when, while attacking a ruined high-rise, the Club found itself missing a leg from a hidden enemy RPG team.

Which was another issue Ciaran found. While the armour of the Club was as good as any Knightmare, he found himself at the mercy of too many near misses for his liking. Again, RPGs and anti-Knightmare rounds were the problem.

"I don't trust that I'll often find myself in environments where the Club's speed will be the main advantage," Ciaran had said during his debriefing after the simulations end. "Urban and forested environments will be the end of me if I get stuck in there."

To that end, the order was given that the Club be up-armoured to increase it's defences, but also in such a way as to allow the Knightmare to obtain it's high speeds.

Finally, the most contentious issue around the Club was what new colour it would be.

Ciaran wanted it drab green, the same as his pilot suit.

"It's a neutral colour which can be altered to suit various war-zones." The young Briton had reasoned, and had found no complaints from any of the military officers.

Lloyd however was unconvinced.

"It's such an ugly colour though." The scientist said.

"Military vehicles are not meant to be works of art," Ciaran replied. "The purpose of anything related to combat is to aid in the destruction of the enemy, either directly or indirectly. Making a military vehicle or weapon look pretty, and I apologise for phrasing it like this, is basically the same as covering a turd in glitter. You can try and make it look nice, but in the end, it's still a turd."

Acting quickly, Cornelia had called a stop to the conversation before it could devolve in to a debate on the merits of style with regards to military equipment and ordered the Lancelot Club to be moved to the garage at the Viceroy's Palace before leaving the Tokyo Settlement University.

The drive back to the Viceroy's Palace was more amicable, with the group discussing the young Briton's work with the Club and how they think it would fare in the future against the Knightmares possessed by the Black Knights.

Inside the Palace, the group split up again, Ciaran no longer needed for the day, but he felt the urge to do something, so he decided to make a start on the information Cornelia had asked him for before Narita.

* * *

Sitting at the desk in his bedroom, Ciaran was hard at work as he was writing out the draft for the essay he was preparing for Cornelia. She hadn't said when she wanted the information given to her, or in what form, but the young man had decided to get this out of the way as soon as he could. He'd been working on in almost non-stop from as soon as he and the others had arrived back at the Palace. Darlton suggested that Ciaran spent some more time getting to grips with the Lancelot Club, but his requests for upgrades and alterations to the Knightmare had taken precedence over anything else, so the young man had decided to get his essay out of the way.

Using a single large writing pad, the young man was racking his brain trying to think of what to put down. Looking up from the pad, he looked at the various pieces of paper he had strewn around his desk and what they contained.

Ciaran would readily admit he wasn't the most knowledgeable about military history, but he knew enough to get by, but picking up some of the pieces of paper to look at them, he began worrying that that wasn't enough for him.

"Oh, come on. I know I'm missing something. But what?" He said to himself as he looked through the notes he had written for Cornelia on what he remembered about counter insurgency.

Deciding that recapping his memory was the best thing to do, he closed the pad to start from the beginning. Looking at the front page, Ciaran focused on the title as he tried to get his brain working.

 **An Essay on Counter Insurgency Strategies and Tactics, with special reference to the conflicts carried out in Africa and the Middle East.**

 **By Ciaran Forsyth, Captain.**

A trio of measured knocks came from the door, forcing Ciaran to turn around.

"Who is it?" He called out, making ready to shuffle the papers together and put them away to hide them.

"It's Guilford." The voice form the other side called out, and instantly the young man recognized it as belonging to Cornelia's Knight. "Can I come in?"

Ciaran breathed a sigh of relief before he turned back to his desk. "Come on in, my lord."

The sound of the door opening and closing reached his ears as the Knight walked over towards the flustered young man, who was tapping a finger against the desk top as he was looking at a sheet of paper that contained information he had written about the battle of Mogadishu.

"Having trouble with something?" Lord Guilford said, the closeness of his voice not catching Ciaran by surprise, as engrossed as he was in his work.

"I will not deny it, my lord. I am stuck." Ciaran said resignedly, dropping the paper back to the desktop, letting out a deep sigh as he slumped back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Leaning over the young man's shoulder, the bespectacled Knight took in the myriad of papers assembled on the desk. "Well, what have you got so far?"

Removing his hand from his face, Ciaran shifted in his chair to sit upright. "Well, since I'm writing this for the Princess, Darlton and yourself, I didn't want to put down any information that you already know."

Guilford nodded as he cast his eyes over the papers. "So what were you focusing on?"

"Well, first off," The young man replied, turning to look at the Knight. "The ways in which Africa and the Middle East is made up in my world is completely different to how it is in this world. There's a lot more political reasons behind the wars in the former and religious reasons for the wars in the latter."

"What do you mean by 'political reasons'?" The Knight asked as he moved aside, taking a seat on Ciaran's bed, forcing the young man to turn his chair to look at him.

"Oh, how do I explain this?" Ciaran said, putting his hand against his chin as he began thinking. "Okay. What I'm going to say is an incredibly condensed, so bear with me. Around the late nineteenth century, a political idea came up called 'communism'. Now the idea behind communism is that everything in society can be distributed evenly: wealth, goods, land, etcetera."

A snort of derision came from the man sitting on the bed. "What?"

Ciaran gave a small smile in return. "I know. It's daft. In my world, people have tried and it's never worked out. Too easy to manipulate, too easy to corrupt. Anyway, we're off topic-"

"Sorry. Carry on."

"Thank you. Now, after the First World War in the first quarter of the twentieth century, the original monarchist government of Russia got replaced by a communist regime. This stayed in power throughout the mid-twentieth century until the latter part of the twentieth century."

"Hold on, Ciaran." Guilford said, leaning forward with a look of confusion on his face. "'First' world war?"

"Yeah, there were two world wars. Can I continue speaking, my lord?" The young man replied, looking at Guilford with a bored expression. This really must be how high school teachers felt.

"Sorry. Do continue."

"Now, following the Second World War, which is far too complicated to go in to," Ciaran said hastily, cutting off the question he knew was going to come from the Knight. "Two power blocks formed between the main political powers at the time: The North Atlantic Treaty Organization led by the United States of America and the Communist Bloc lead by the United Soviet States of Russia."

Ciaran sighed but smiled at the look of confusion on Guilford's face.

"My lord, I swear that I will explain all of this in due time. It's just incredibly complicated and long, and would require the use of at least half a dozen whiteboards."

The bespectacled Knight nodded his head slowly before motioning with his hands for Ciaran to continue.

"Now, as I'm sure you can imagine, neither power want to engage in a Third World War, especially with the weapons they had at their disposal – Don't ask – So they were content to, shall we say, play a very high stakes game of chess, and Africa was their chosen board."

"Why Africa?" Guilford asked, giving Ciaran question that didn't require much explanation.

"Basically, after the Second World War, the European powers, those who still had imperial territories overseas; Britain, France, Belgium and Portugal, lost their power in the post-war world, so they decided to basically cut their ties with their overseas territories. The majority of them got through simple elections and were given their independence. Others... decided that waiting for a vote was too long."

"And I assume this is where the Communists came in?" Guilford asked, his interest piqued now.

"Technically: Soviets, but yes. In the early years, they sent arms they had taken from the Germans – please don't ask. I WILL explain this, my lord. They sent weapons and equipment they had taken from the Germans during the Second World War so as to avoid being called out on supplying arms to rebels."

Guilford nodded his head at the thinking. "I can see the logic behind that."

"Exactly. This started a series of proxy wars, where the Soviets tried to expand their theatre of influence without anyone in the international community giving them grief over it."

The Knight brought a finger up to his chin as he processed the information, and Ciaran was preparing for his next question.

"Okay. I think I've got a handle on that." Guilford said after a few seconds, looking at the young man sitting across from him. "But I feel I have to ask: what about the tactics?"

That made Ciaran smile. "I'm glad you asked that question. You see, in the 1960s, one former British colony in Africa found itself virtually surrounded by enemies from without and had an enemy striking from within. These enemies used small bases scattered around the countryside, deep in the brush, and they used tactics like mining roads, making it near impossible for the nation's soldiers to move about without being ambushed and also attack isolated civilian farms to try and cripple the country's infrastructure."

"So how did they deal with it?" Guilford asked, intrigued by the concept.

"Firstly, they shrunk down their unit sizes, from eight man sections to four man sticks, giving each stick a machine gun instead of keeping it one to a section."

"Increase in fire power and creating more flexible operating units." Guilford said, to which Ciaran nodded.

"Exactly. And to deal with the mined roads, they created a new class of vehicles: MRAPs."

"Em-raps?" The Knight asked in confusion.

"Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected vehicles. That's the American designation at least, and it's stuck. But it's apt. Basically, these are troop carriers which have an angled hull," Ciaran put his hands so that his wrists were together with his hands apart to form a V-shape. "These were reinforced with extra armour plating and sometimes the wheels would be filled with water. This would mean the vehicles were resilient to mines and improvised explosive devices."

"But what about the bases deep in the brush?"

At this, Ciaran's smile grew larger, even revealing a few of his teeth. "Two words: vertical envelopment."

Guilford arced an eyebrow at the term.

"Basically, it's what it says on the tin. Using a quartet of helicopters, one designated as a command vehicle and the other three as gunship-transports, which was in turn supported by several sticks of paratroopers in a transport aircraft and given fire support by a light attack aircraft. These groups, known as a 'Fireforce', were responsible for large swathes of the countryside which were routinely swept by infantry patrols.

"When the foot patrols found an enemy base, they would radio back to their HQ, giving the coordinates of the enemy. This would call the Fireforce in to the air, with the first to arrive being the command helicopter, wherein the commander would circle at a couple of hundred feet in the air relaying information to the gunships; identifying enemy strong-points, weapon emplacements, what have you."

"Sounds impressive." Guilford said in genuine astonishment. "Then I assume that the gunships would be used as blocking forces while engaging the enemy?"

Ciaran nodded his head in astonishment at how quickly the Britannian grasped the concept. "You are good. Yeah, as you said, the other sticks would be dropped around the target zone as blocking force, although the unit commander would have to order them in to areas where he was certain that the enemy would try to escape through. Then of course, the noose would be tightened around the target, usually via inserting the paratroops or by calling air-strikes from the... Oh, holy shit!"

The young man put his hands to his head as he leaned back in his chair, a large smile cracking across his face before he began laughing. To say this confused Guilford greatly would be an understatement.

"Is something wrong?" The Knight asked, standing up slightly from the bed to look at Ciaran's outburst, a mixture of worry and confusion on face.

After a few moments of laughing, Ciaran let his arms drop to his side before moving to look at the Knight, an unremitting smile on his face. "Do you know that bit that was giving me trouble?"

Guilford looked at him in bewilderment before the realization dawn on his face, making the knight shake his head, a smile growing on his face as he chuckled himself. For his part, Ciaran turned his chair back to face his desk and picked up his pen, not wanting to forget what he had said.

"You're welcome for the assistance, Ciaran." The Knight said as he made to move towards the door, before stopping and turning back to look at the young man. "Oh, I just remembered."

Ciaran turned his head to look at the Knight.

"Dinner's going to be at six. Roast chicken, with roast potatoes, steamed vegetables and gravy."

The young man's mouth began salivating at the prospect of a good roast dinner. "That sounds bloody wonderful, my Lord. I won't be late."

"I'll see you at six then," Guilford said as he carried on walking to Ciaran's bedroom door. "Don't overwork yourself now."

The young man just chuckled as he returned back to his paper.

He heard the door open.

"Ciaran?" Guilford asked, prompting Ciaran to turn his chair around to look at the Knight.

"Yes?"

The Knight had his arms crossed across his chest as he looked at the young Briton. "Satisfy my curiosity. What's the name of the country you were talking about?"

"Oh. Rhodesia."

As the name left his lips, Ciaran saw Guilford's face take on a look of confusion again before he let out a short bark of laughter. "Really? That's the last place I expected to pull off something like that."

Ciaran looked at Guilford in bewilderment as the Knight left the room, shaking his head.

Quickly shaking the thought from his head, the young man turned back to the paper before he fully forgot what he had told Guilford about.

* * *

"And done!" Ciaran shouted triumphantly as he pressed the full stop key for the last time. It had taken nearly three hours of work, half a dozen crumpled pieces of paper, many angry deletions and the temptation to throw his laptop across the room after one accidental button press deleted a good portion of his work, but finally, the essay was done.

Twelve pages, including the title page, coupled with four pages of, admittedly, crude diagrams drawn by hand that were resting on his desk, gave Ciaran a respectable amount of sixteen pages. It would have probably gotten him a B in his A-level history class, but here, he was just hoping that none it seemed to be daft.

He had covered all the major things he could think of: the British in Malaysia during the Malay Emergency and how a 'hearts and mind' approach against an isolated insurgency can achieve victory when used in conjunction with using local intelligence sources. He also covered the Vietnam War, and how simply using overwhelming force and fire-power in an environment not suited for it against a large insurgent presence, with substantial backing in arms and war material from neighbouring countries would not result in a victory.

He wasn't sure how much of what he wrote would be actually useful to Cornelia and the others, but he had continued. He wrote about the Battle of Mogadishu, about how the American forces had failed to come up with a Plan B if things went wrong, had not told the UN about their plan, and had underestimated the resistance that would be put up the by Somalis (to name a few, since by this point Ciaran's mind was quite frazzled from overworking).

He had also referenced the tactics and innovations used by the Rhodesian Defence Forces in the Rhodesian Bush War, which would lead to creation of the modern counter-insurgency tactics used by the Coalition forces operating in Iraq and Afghanistan.

His right wrist hurt from all the penmanship and even from the typing, and he was certain he was slightly dehydrated. But now, looking over his work, there was only phrase that came to mind.

"Worth it."

Reaching over, he quickly moved the mouse on the laptop to select the button to print the pages before clicking the button. Soon, the sound of the printer whirring to life and inking the pieces of paper filled the room. And to Ciaran, it was the most glorious sound to his ears.

Leaning back in his chair, the young man began massaging his wrist as he tried to get rid of the ache, watching the first pieces of paper come out of the printer. When he was certain that there were not going to be any troubles, he looked at the clock on the laptop.

16:13

' _Not too bad._ ' Ciaran thought to himself as he stood up from his chair. It wouldn't take too long for all of the papers to finish printing and it was also a while before dinner so he was a bit unsure about what to do with himself for the next hour and three quarters.

The thought of going for another shower cropped in to his head when the buzzing of his mobile phone receiving a text reached his ear, the sound reverberating loudly as the phone rumbled across the wooden desktop. Moving to his desk, he picked up the phone and flipped up the screen to look at who it was.

 **Ciaran.**

 **Come to my room. Please.**

 **Dorothea.**

The ache in his wrist was forgotten as he looked at the words on the small screen. The memories of that morning came rushing back to him: the look on her face when she realised she had slept on him, the guilt in her face at her actions.

Quickly moving in to the bathroom, the young man gave himself. He knew this wasn't anything official, but he felt it was only right to make himself look presentable. Taking a quick swig from a bottle of mouthwash, he freshened his breath before giving his upper body a quick spray with a can of deodorant. He couldn't do much with his hair or beard, so he decided that it was best to leave them as they were.

Exiting the bathroom, he moved to the door. Standing to pause in front of the door, he took a deep breath before gripping the handle, pressing it down and exiting his room.

The walk to the room was longer than Ciaran knew it was. The whole experience seemed surreal to him, as he moved down the hallway. His footsteps echoed loudly, almost eclipsing the sound of his blood reverberating through his ears as his heart felt like it was ready to explode from his chest. Ciaran was certain that he felt sweat literally dripping from his forehead.

At this moment in time, he'd rather face down Kallen's Knightmare with a pistol then walk down this corridor.

It took him by surprise when he blinked his eyes closed and upon opening them, he found himself standing in front of Dorothea's door. Looking to the sides, he made sure he was by himself.

Standing still, he brought his hand to chest, expecting to feel it beating a jack-hammer against his sternum. Resting his hand against his breast, he found that it was beating quickly, but not as quickly as he imagined it was.

Bringing his hand up to forehead, ready to wipe away the built-up sweat, only to find it bone dry.

Shaking his head quickly, Ciaran quickly thumped the sides of his head with his wrists.

"Come on, Ciaran!" He hissed to himself. "You're over-thinking this!"

Taking a deep breath, he reached forward and knocked on the door before calling out, his hand dropping to his side. "Dorothea, it's me."

Silence met him in reply for a few seconds and he raised his hand to knock again before he heard the Knight of Four's voice call out. "Come in, Ciaran."

Grasping the door handle, he pushed open the wooden door and stepped in to the room. Sure as sure, Dorothea was inside the room. She was dressed in her pristine white Knight of The Round's uniform, once again possessing the sharp edge the outfit gave her. Her hair was done up again and she was sitting on the edge of her bed, her fingers laced together and resting on her knees.

"Close the door, please." She said, Ciaran quickly complying with the request before walking towards the bed. As he moved towards her, he cast his eyes around Dorothea's bedroom, unsurprised to find that it was exactly the same as his own.

Stopping beside the bed, he looked down at Dorothea as she shuffled aside slightly then patting the vacant spot beside her. Looking at her hand as she tapped the part of the bed beside her, he hesitantly moved to sit on the bed, deciding that a small distance between the two of them was the best option. Looking over, Ciaran was glad to see that she wasn't offended by his action.

"So," Dorothea began after a few moments of silence. "I feel that I owe you an explanation for why I reacted the way I did this morning."

Ciaran nodded his head, hinting that Dorothea should continue speaking.

Looking at her, he watched as the dark-skinned woman shifted slightly in her seat, like she suddenly found it uncomfortable. She began wringing her hands before changing to twiddling her thumbs as she looked down at her hands before shutting her eyes.

"Ciaran, I... I want to... um... I want to tell you that..." Dorothea began, before squeezing her hands tight in to a fist. "That I feel that... that I... Damn it, why is this so hard?"

Reaching over, Ciaran put a hand on to her shoulder, making Dorothea's head snap up and around, her eyes wide in shock.

"Dorothea," He said in a soothing voice. "Let me say this first: seeing your act like this is... it's freaking me out a bit. I know you want to say something big, so... just take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

The young Briton meant every word of it, and it warmed his heart to see Dorothea's mouth break in to a smile, her eyes seeming to glimmer in the light as she did so and a blush crept on to her cheeks. Turning her head to look away, she let it drop but at the same time she reached up and put her hand on top of Ciaran's hand, rubbing the top of his hand with her thumb.

Letting out a small sigh, Dorothea began speaking again. "I'm sorry, but this is hard for me since it's not something I've never done before."

Ciaran raised an eyebrow at her words as she continued.

"It's just that... I know you think of me as a friend, and I think of you as one too. But I've developed... feelings that a friend shouldn't have for a friend. And... I'm worried that you'll hate me for it."

Dorothea's words brought a confused smile to Ciaran's face. "Dorothea, nothing you could say could make me hate you. Now, I want you to tell me what's bothering you, without fear or hesitation. Okay?"

Lifting her head once more, Dorothea looked at him again, her emerald eyes locking with his light green eyes. Gripping his hand, she turned in place to face him properly.

"Ciaran... I think I love you."

He didn't mean for what happened next to happen, but Ciaran's eyes opened wide and he grinned at her.

"You... you love me?"

Dorothea nodded her head. "I thought that what I was feeling was something else. But... I was worried that if I told anyone, that you would find out and you would end up hating me. So I checked on the internet what my feelings were, and... I think, no, I'm sure that I love you."

Ciaran slumped in his seat at the revelation. This was not what he expected.

"That's also why I freaked out this morning. I was worried that what I did was too forward and, since I didn't know what your feelings for me were, I panicked."

It was Ciaran's turn to be flustered as this woman poured out her feelings to him. Looking at her, he saw that Dorothea was waiting expectantly for him to talk.

"Um... I... when did you start feeling... this way?" He asked hesitantly.

"I'm not sure." Dorothea replied, looking down at his hand. "Looking back on it, it might have been when we first met, when you kissed the back of my hand. I've had it done many times to me by noblemen and other people trying to gain my favour in some form or another. But with you, it felt... different."

"Different how?"

"Like... like you wanted to do it. It felt like an actual show of affection rather than a simple gesture." Dorothea said.

Ciaran thought back to that night and... yeah, she was right. He knew that kissing the back of her hand was the right thing to do as she was a noblewoman, but at the same time, he did want to do it.

"And... Kitakyushu?" He asked, bringing up that fateful night.

"I... I'm not sure. In my head, I rationalized it as me trying to comfort you after what you went through. But seeing you in that state, vulnerable and confused... I don't know. A part of my brain told me to take advantage of it and it made me kiss you."

At this revelation, to Ciaran's surprise, Dorothea's eyes began to water as she spoke.

"You must think I'm a horrible person."

Seeing tears begin to trail down Dorothea's cheeks, Ciaran felt horrible.

This conversation was too one sided.

"Well, I have to say something too, actually." He said, making Dorothea look up at him, tears filling her eyes. "I... don't think those feelings are one sided."

"What do you mean?" The Knight of Four asked.

"I think that I've developed feelings for you too. Whether those feelings are love or not, I'm not one hundred percent positive, but I'd like to think they're a start."

Looking at him, Dorothea quickly used the sleeve of her free arm to wipe at her eyes, removing her tears. "You... you do?"

The young man nodded in reply. "I can't say with certainty that it was when I first met you the night you and Nonette arrived, but I know that seeing you look angry and annoyed at what happened at Kawaguchi made me feel... I didn't like it one bit. I wanted to see you smile, and when you smiled, it felt... right."

Dorothea's lips spread in to a smile, the same smile she had on at Kawaguchi, which made her eyes sparkle gently. "Does it feel right now?"

Ciaran couldn't help but smile at her words as he nodded his head. "Yes. It feels right. And at Kitakyushu, actually that should be 'after Kitakyushu', I got confused."

The smile fell from Dorothea's lips.

"I mean... it shocked me that you would kiss me. I didn't think that you would think of me like that. But now..."

"And now?" Dorothea asked.

Leaning forward quickly, simultaneously removing his hand from her grip, Ciaran pressed his lips to Dorothea's left cheek in a small kiss, the same side she kissed him on at Kitakyushu.

The copper-skinned woman's eyes opened wide and her skin reddened in a blush as Ciaran moved back.

"Now I'm glad you spent the night with me."

Dorothea's face softened at the revelation. Reaching forward, Ciaran wrapped his arms around the woman's shoulders and pulled her in to a hug as he shifted his position to sit directly next to her. They stayed connected like that for a few moments before Dorothea relinquished her hold on him.

"There is something we do need to talk about." He said earnestly.

"What's up?" Ciaran asked, feeling a bit worried because of the look she was giving him.

"Well... I'm a Knight of the Round, and you're British-born soldier, a captain you may be."

"Oh? Oh." The young man asked before the realization set in. "Yeah, that would be a problem."

Dorothea nodded her head. "Indeed. If news that we were together got out, then... I don't know what would happen to us, but I know we wouldn't be able to enjoy being with each other."

Ciaran nodded his head in understanding. He could only guess how the Britannian news agencies would go with the idea of the Knight of Four having a relationship with an unknown captain.

"Well... what if we just keep between our group?" The young man asked, looking at Dorothea hopefully.

"What do you mean?" She asked in reply.

"Well... I'm not sure about you, but I wouldn't feel one hundred percent about keeping our relationship a secret. But what if we only told the people we trust?"

Dorothea fixed Ciaran with a deadpan look. "You want to tell Nonette that we're in a relationship?"

A look of fear came to Ciaran's face as he realised what the implication of such an action would be. "Yeah, okay, maybe not her. But we should at least tell Cornelia what's going on."

Dorothea opened her mouth to protest but closed it.

"All right. And we should also tell Darlton. I wouldn't feel right if he didn't know."

"Agreed." Ciaran said quickly. With the scarred general taking on the role as surrogate father, it would be sensible to tell him.

"And Euphemia." Dorothea said quickly, which surprised Ciaran.

"Eh?"

At that reaction, a guilty look cropped on to the woman's face. "Um... I may have told Euphemia about me kissing you at Kitakyushu."

Ciaran nodded his head at Dorothea's admission, although to Dorothea, it must have meant that he didn't like what she had done.

"I'm sorry. Euphemia just... pulled it out of me."

"No. I understand. She, uh... she did the same to me."

Dorothea smiled at the news that she wasn't alone in that regards.

"So when shall we tell them?" Ciaran asked, deciding that it was best for her to dictate something like this. After a few moments of pondering quietly, Dorothea spoke up.

"Let's leave it for today. You've got your new unit to deal with, and that'll take time for you." The dark-skinned woman nodded her head at her own reasoning. "We'll do it the day after tomorrow. Treat it like a plaster. Just get it out, then and there."

"Agreed." Ciaran said in reply, before the pair lapsed in to a comfortable silence.

They stayed together like that for a few moments, their hands connected to each other. Reluctantly, Dorothea let her hand slide out from between Ciaran's and moved to stand up.

"I need to get cleaned up for dinner. I'll see you then, okay?" She said, smiling sweetly at him as the young man stood up.

"Yeah, no problem. I should get ready too. I'll see you at dinner."

At that, the two walked away from each, Dorothea heading to the bathroom and Ciaran heading to the door. As his hand grazed the door handle, the female Knight called out to him.

"Ciaran?"

Turning around, the young man saw Dorothea practically hugging the door frame of the bathroom, her head resting against her arm and, even from the distance he was at, Ciaran could easily see the blush on her cheeks.

"Thank you." She said, before gliding in to the room, leaving Ciaran to open the door and walk out in the hallway, closing the door behind him.

When the door was closed, Ciaran slumped backwards until his back lightly tapped against the door. As the back of his head came to rest against the wood, he let a broad smile come to his face before he began chuckling slightly.

This was definitely an unusual way to start the week. But as he pushed himself off from the door and made his way back to his room, he couldn't resist adding a spring to his step.

' _This week might turn out better than I thought._ ' He thought to himself as he entered his room, ready to take a shower.

* * *

The wind blew pleasantly through the air, invisibly dancing with the clouds, as the sun sat just above the horizon in the same position it always had been, turning the sky a vivid shade of orange and bathing the ruins on the floating platform in various fiery colours on one side and casting the other side in long shadows.

Standing in the middle of the large floating platform, the large frame of the 98th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Emperor, Charles zi Britannia, stood unmoving against the breeze. The wind caused his large black and red cloak to whip up behind him along with the gold-trimmed, deep purple jacket he wore as his befitting rank as Emperor. Even with the low light casting a long shadow, he was a giant of a man, standing well over six foot and a half tall, which coupled with his broad shoulders, barrel chest and the near permanent scowl on his square face made him a terrifying colossus.

Currently, he had his eyes closed, lost in his own thoughts in the immense solitude that the Sword of Akasha provided. Here he could get away from the mundaneness of being the ruler of Britannia and the trivialities of the world at large. He was undisturbed as always, none of the members of the Geass Directorate would disturb him here unless it was important news.

So the sound of footsteps echoing off the steps leading to ruins with the Sword of Akasha was a surprise, albeit not a wholly unexpected surprise to him. What as a definite surprise was the weight of the footsteps. They weren't the heavy footfalls of the masked and robed men that made up the higher ranks of the Directorate.

They were lighter. Softer. Smaller.

"Big brother" Charles said simply, not bothering to turn around as he heard his older brother walk up towards him.

"How are you faring, brother?" V.V. asked as he sidled up beside the larger man. Looking at the two of them together; one being a large man in his sixties with white hair and the other, little more than a boy in appearances, with long blond hair, an onlooker would be forgiven for thinking that it was V.V. that was the elder sibling.

It was when they were both ten, after loosing their mother in an assassin's attack, her carriage overturning and crushing her to death. Both Charles and his brother grew tired of the falsehoods that plagued the world, all the lying and manipulation.

But they had a plan for all of that.

"Same as always." Charles replied glibly, not bothering to look at his brother. "How goes your hunt for C.C.?"

"We've not made much progress in our search for her. She's proving incredibly elusive." The small blonde... boy said, sounding very annoyed. "But that's not why I'm here. Something has come up."

This caught Charles' interest, causing him to turn his head to look at the immortal man in the young boys body as he arced an eyebrow at the news. "What do you mean?"

V.V. didn't look is brother, just facing a head at the sky in front of them. From his vantage point, Charles could see that his brother was trying to figure out what to say.

"We've... detected an anomaly." V.V. said simply, obviously seeing no other way to phrase it.

This confused Charles greatly.

"What do you mean?"

V.V. shrugged in reply. "My intel sources tell me that it's one person, a young man. He's in Area 11, and he's on Cornelia's command staff."

"Does he have any connection to C.C.?" Charles asked, still looking at his brother as he shook his head.

"Not as far as we can tell. He disappeared after the battle at Narita a few days ago and has now resurfaced at the Viceroy's Palace, but that's all we know."

Charles turned back to look at the sky in front of him, watching the clouds float across the sky.

"Does he pose a threat to our goal?" He asked after a few moments of quiet contemplating.

V.V. shook his head. "Not that we can immediately tell."

The pair stood in silence again.

"No matter. This man is nothing," Charles practically growled out. "He's just the same as the rest of the world: an insignificant stepping stone on the path to our true goal."

"Killing God." V.V. said, finishing his brother's thoughts as the pair continued looking out over the rolling clouds in the sky that was always a fiery orange.

* * *

 **AN: And it's up! Much earlier than expected. Which might bode well for Chapter 20 then.**

 **And big news! A Brave New World has crossed a major threshold: 168 followers, 158 faves and 110 reviews! Holy shit guys. I cannot help but say thank you for all of the love and attention you guys have given this story. Means a lot. Again thank you.**

 **So yeah, chapter 19. Again, serious thanks to A.D Fields for giving me a hand with this chapter. This chapter really had me writing something I'm not used to writing: anything remotely romantic. It's hard, all right! Especially for someone like who has read virtually nothing but military orientated stories.**

 **Also, there's the big reveal of who Ciaran is going with! And it is Dorothea. Why? Because I'm the author and that's all. Okay, that's not just all. Code Geass did a good job at introducing some interesting characters, but ever since seeing Dorothea in R2, episode 22, also along with Monica, she just seemed like an interesting character. Although I'll be honest, I'm usually more taken with characters who DON'T get a lot of airtime purely because it lets my imagination run wild.**

 **And also: we see V.V and Charles again. I'll be honest, the Sword of Akasha kind of confuses me, purely because it's always shown as being either around sunrise or sunset. I'm unsure of whether it's because exists at a point in space where the sun is just above the horizon or the nature of the Sword of Akasha just creates a pseudo-sunset/sunrise.**

 **So, as usual: read, enjoy, review. Until next time!**


	20. Chapter 20

The second day of the unofficial truce between Cornelia's forces and the Black Knights began as any other, albeit a little overcast. The weather forecast said that a squall was coming in from the North-East Pacific, coming down from the Bering Sea, would bring rain to the Tokyo settlement. When that was expected, they weren't sure.

Stepping out of the Viceroy's Palace, Ciaran looked up at the sky above him. The guards posted outside the doors and the security gates knew who he was by now, but to the civilians, none of them would have guessed who he was. Dressed in a dark brown jacket, it's sleeves rolled up above his elbows and a pair of blue jeans coupled with dark brown boots, his outfit completed by an olive drab field cap that he put on to his head, the young man could have easily slipped amongst the myriad crowds in Area 11.

The only hint that the young man was more than he appeared to be was to look at the holster nestled on his hip and the snakeskin pattern ivory handle that could be glimpsed when Ciaran moved his jacket. There might be a ceasefire, but Cornelia had told him not to take any chances, and he had taken that advice to heart; the pistol's safety was on, but one round sat ready in the chamber.

Standing on the pavement outside the Palace's gates, he paid attention to the various vehicles that were coming towards him. Spying the form of a black taxi cab, the same kind that you would see in London, with it's distinctive orange light lit up on it's roof, he lifted his hat off of his head and waved it in the air, trying to get the driver's attention.

It worked as the cab's indicator lit up and began blinking as the black vehicle turned sideways slightly, crossing over a lane of traffic before gliding to a stop in front of the young man. Inside the front of the vehicle, the driver, a heavy-set, balding, middle-aged man, motioned for Ciaran to open the passenger door.

"Where ya going to, lad?" He asked, turning to look the young man with a smile.

"Tokyo Settlement General Hospital, please." Ciaran replied as he fastened the seatbelt over his body before smoothing out his hair.

With a nod of his head, the cabbie rolled the taxi away from the pavement and in to the traffic that filled up the roads in the Settlement in the late morning. As he looked out of the window, Ciaran let his eyes scan the various high-rise buildings, great monoliths of glass and steel that reflected the sky and sunlight.

As he grew bored of the sight, he reached down to one of the breast pockets of his jacket, pinching a small cardboard card before withdrawing it out of the pocket. Holding it between his fingers, he looked at the small card. One side was blank save for the coat of arms of the Britannian Imperial family, with a slight alteration for Cornelia's rank and title as general of the Emperor's forces: a sword crossed with a musket imposed under the coat of arms.

Turning over the card, he looked at the words written on the back:

 **Hitomi Kozuki**

 **Tokyo Settlement General Hospital Prisoners Wing**

 **Ward-D, Room 14**

Rubbing his thumb over the edge of the cardboard, Ciaran thought back to the conversation that he had earlier that morning with Darlton.

* * *

" _Are you sure you should be doing this, Ciaran?" The large general asked as he watched the young Briton attach the simple leather holster to his belt before checking himself in the mirror to see how if it was sitting right._

" _I am, sir." Ciaran replied, looking at Darlton via the mirror before shifting his belt slightly, checking that his holster was sitting right. Satisfied that it was, he clipped open the cover and slid in his Webley before clipping the cover closed. "Besides, it seems a bit crass of me to always be talking about Kallen's mother to her without actually checking up on her."_

 _The scarred general nodded his head in understanding. "You do across as a bit of a jerk when you put it like that, lad."_

 _Ciaran shrugged as he turned around before picking up his dark brown jacket from the back of the chair sitting by his desk. "That's why I'm doing this."_

 _As he fixed his outfit, making sure the lowest bit of his jacket slip over the holstered pistol, enough to shield it from the unwary eye but not enough as to obstruct him drawing it if and when he needed it, Ciaran glanced up at the mirror, catching sight of Darlton's large form, the scarred general crossing his arms over his chest._

 _Letting out a small sigh, the young man turned to look at the older man. "Okay. What's wrong?"_

 _Darlton didn't say anything for a while, bringing a confused look to Ciaran's face before he finally spoke._

" _I know that you think you're doing the right thing, and I fully support you, but... can you trust Kallen to not try anything?"_

 _The confused look never left Ciaran's face as the young man raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"_

" _She's a known terrorist, to you and I at least and, very likely in her mind, the Viceroy. If you tell Kallen that you went to visit her mother in the hospital, she might take it the wrong way."_

" _Do you really think that Kallen would attack me, sir?"_

 _Darlton didn't say anything as he closed his eyes tightly and tilted his head back, seeming to cringe at the idea before moving his head forward to lock his black eyes on Ciaran._

" _All I'm saying is: be careful."_

 _Ciaran's right hand moved to his hip as he snapped the cover off his holster and drew the pistol out in to the air, his thumb disengaging the safety as he did so. Using his left hand, he gripped the rear end of the slide and pulled it back, pulling the chamber back. The whole process meant that a round was extracted from the magazine and pushed in to the empty chamber, before Ciaran let the slide snap forward and he repeated the process in reverse: thumb brushing up to re-engage the safety, replace the pistol in the holster and snap the cover closed._

 _Flashing a small, but rueful grin, Ciaran looked at Darlton._

" _As safe as in your mother's womb."_

 _This earned a snort from Darlton as a confused look came to his face._

" _How old are you again?"_

* * *

A small snicker escaped Ciaran's mouth at the final memory. He hadn't meant the sound to be as loud as it was, but the sound of his mirth was enough to make the taxi driver turn his head.

"Something funny, mate?"

Ciaran shook his head as he waved off the question as he replaced the card back in to his breast-pocket. "Nah, just... it's nothing."

Turning his head, the driver focused on the road ahead of him as the taxi continued it's journey to the hospital. But, continuing the long and well established tradition of taxi cab drivers always wanting to converse more with their customers, the man spoke up again.

"So who are you going to see in the hospital?"

'The drug-addicted mother of a teenage terrorist' Ciaran said in his head before speaking out loud. "It's the mother of a friend. They've not been able to visit her so they've asked me to check on her."

The taxi driver made a sound of affirmation before replying with an answer Ciaran should have expected. "So how did she end up in hospital then?"

'Drug overdose', Ciaran said mentally before speaking out loud. "Accident at her workplace. Something to do with her hip, so she's off her feet for a few days."

The driver gave a small chuckle by way of reply. "Oh, don't talk to me about bad hips. My father, god bless him, kept working until he was sixty. Never stopped working. Only time he ever took a day off was when he fell off a ladder and landed on his hip. Doctors said he had to stop, but my father? Boy, he was hearing none of it..."

Ciaran only smiled as the man began waxing on with his story. Only paying the slightest bit of attention to the man's story, he cast his eyes out over the various buildings that filled the skyline of the Tokyo Settlement.

The amount of times he had been to London could be counted on one hand with fingers left over, but the memory of what the skyline looked like was always etched in his mind. Tall, metal and glass skyscrapers touched the sky while, nestled below them, squat stone etched Victorian buildings stood next to wooden faced faux-Elizabethan buildings as a testament to the cities history. Even the smaller British cities kept a meld of the old and the new.

Except for Chester. Ciaran always liked strolling down the cobbled streets, walking in the reassuring shadows cast by the false fronted Elizabethan buildings.

He didn't get the same feeling from the settlement. So few buildings in the settlement seemed to be under five-stories high, and the ones that were did nothing to remind him of the buildings in Britain: false fronted with marble architecture, although it wouldn't surprise him if they were made from genuinely made from marble, they looked horribly garish, while the skyscrapers looked like poor attempts at simulating a castles defensive towers. It did more to remind him of the pictures he'd seen of North Korea's capital, Pyongyang.

The weirdest part to Ciaran's mind was how effectively the Britannians had erased any trace of Japan from their own capital city. Even the British Empire, for all of the faults directed at it, allowed the people it conquered to keep some form of national identity. Even the Romans did it.

But the Britannians just completely erased any vestige of the identity that the Japanese had. He had see many photos of Tokyo in his world, but this place was so far removed from that city it didn't feel right.

He'd seen the maps that told him that this island was Japan, but the only thing he could connect this island with the one from his own world was a few names and Mount Fuji. The rest felt... alien.

The sound and feeling of the taxi applying it's brakes jolted Ciaran out of his thoughts.

"'ere we are, lad. Tokyo Settlement General Hospital." The driver said, turning in his seat to look at Ciaran with a smile on his, which was met by a stunned look from the young man.

"Already?"

"Yup. That'll be sixteen-fifty mate."

"That was fast." Ciaran replied as he unbuckled his seatbelt and moved to take out his wallet before paying the man. Exiting the vehicle, he dragged his cap out from the chair beside him, tucking it under his armpit before shutting the door behind him, telling the driver to keep the change, as he made his way in to the hospital proper.

The entrance was a pair of automatic, double glass doors leading in to the foyer proper. Inside, the walls were a shade of light blue, split up by white tiles. The floor was the same linoleum one would expect to find on a hospital floor, while two parallel rows of benches sat on either side of a fern lined alley that lead to the main reception desk. Moving down the space, he saw that there were only a handful of people present. Mostly people who looked like they'd had one few too many drinks the night before. But it was still early, and he wasn't in the Accident & Emergency room so he didn't know how good the healthcare that the Britannian's provided was.

Drawing up to the desk, Ciaran cast his view over the area before him. It was a pretty standard receptionist desk sitting a junction of two corridors going off the sides: two tiered, with several computer terminals, phones and bits for holding paperwork. But he couldn't see any nurses around.

Looking over the desk, he saw a bell sitting on top of the desk. Moving to stand in front of it, he quickly reached up and tapped the clapper twice quickly, filling the air with a pair of loud ' _DING_ 's. Tucking his hat smartly under his armpit, he tried his best to put on an impassive face.

"Coming! Coming!" A female voice called out hurriedly from behind what Ciaran had mistakenly taken to be a file cabinet but was actually a door before a small, red haired woman quickly came up to the desk. She wore a pair of bright pink scrub trousers paired with a pink version of the outfits the people who supplied costume shops thought nurses wore, a double-breasted jacked with short sleeves.

Drawing close, the nurse beamed a wide smile and Ciaran couldn't help but smile back as she spoke. "Hi. Welcome to Tokyo Settlement General Hospital. How can I help you, sir?"

Shaking his head quickly, Ciaran drew the card Darlton gave him from his breast-pocket before handing it to the nurse. "I'm here to see the patient stated in this card."

As the nurse looked over the card, the young man could see here eyes widen at the sight of the Imperial Crest on the reverse side, before glancing up at Ciaran.

"Umm... One moment, please." She said timidly, before moving away to a phone. Pressing a short sequence of buttons, she began talking animatedly but in a hushed tone to the other person on the end of the phone. Occasionally, the nurse would steal glances over at Ciaran, who simply shot her a small smile every time which she returned. After a little over a minute, the nurse put the phone and came over to Ciaran again. "A doctor will be with you shortly. Technically, nurses aren't allowed to take people like you to the Prisoners Wing."

Ciaran nodded in reply before turning to look at the bench behind him but directly in front of the reception. "I'll be right here if you need me."

The nurse nodded her head timidly before returning to whatever duty she had been doing before Ciaran had interrupted her. Sitting down on the bench, Ciaran kept his hat tucked under his armpit as he sat down to wait for whoever was coming to meet him.

He didn't have to wait long as, turning to look down the corridor to his left to see a man hurriedly walking down towards the reception. He wore the white coat of a doctor, and from what Ciaran could see, he was very lanky, almost like Guilford, but lacking the same power that the Knight possessed. As the doctor drew closer, prompting the young man to stand, Ciaran saw that the man was probably what Guilford would look like if he got less sleep: bags under his eyes, scraggly facial hair and a pair of glasses that somehow managed to avoid falling off the end of his nose.

The only major difference that Ciaran saw between the doctor and Guilford was that the former had sandy-blonde hair instead of black.

"All right!" The man said as he drew level with the reception desk and Ciaran. "What's going on? What's this about an inspection from the Viceroy's staff?"

Ciaran arced an eyebrow at the phrasing as the same nurse from before came out again. At the sight of the doctor, she simply motioned towards the young Briton, forcing the doctor to turn and look at him, staring him down with bright blue eyes before a sneer crept to the doctor's face.

"You?" He said flatly. "You're the member of the Viceroy's staff?"

Ciaran stood taller, setting his feet and legs closer together before nodding. "Yes, I am."

The doctor snorted. "No, you're not."

The young man's reply was to reach in to one of his pockets and pull out his ID, holding it out for the doctor to take. On it, he knew would be a photo of him from the chest up, dressed in his Royal Guardsman uniform, staring blankly at the camera, along with the information that Darlton had typed up for him, which was something Ciaran had never actually checked.

The doctor obviously was checking the information though as his eyes flicked back and forth from the card to the young man before he seemed to straighten himself out before handing the card back.

"I'm sorry, sir. We... we just didn't get any word about an inspection today and so obviously-"

Ciaran held up a hand to quiet the man before he took the card from him. "It's all right. But to call this an 'inspection' would not be the best way to describe it. I'm here to check on a patient. Nothing more."

Placing the ID card back in his pocket, Ciaran put his free hand behind his back, giving the doctor some breathing room. Collecting his thoughts, the doctor took in a few breaths before looking at Ciaran a bit more nicely now.

"I'm sorry, Captain," The man said after collecting his breath. "When you get a call that a member of the Viceroy's personal staff has dropped by unannounced, you kind of go in to a panic. Who's the patient you wanted to see again?"

"Her name's Hitomi Kozuki. She's one of the people taken in after the drug bust in Kitakyushu." Ciaran said simply, fixing the older man with his best no-nonsense stare.

In response, the man simply nodded and motioned down the same hallway he had come down, indicating for Ciaran to follow as the man began speaking.

"She's one of the Elevens that was brought in, right? I wondered when someone was going to check up on them."

"We've been a bit busy." Ciaran said simply as he followed the doctor. "So, how have they been doing?"

"It varies on a case by case basis." The doctor said as the duo approached a small row of elevators. Stepping to the side to let an orderly pushing a trolley past, the doctor looked at the young man. "Are you aware of the effects of Refrain on a person, sir?"

Ciaran just looked at the doctor blankly. "For the record, let's just say that I don't."

The older man simply shook his head as he pressed the button to call one of the elevators. "Basically, Refrain is a psychotropic drug, meaning it acts on the brain chemistry to affect mood and such. Refrain however acts on the synapses of the brain linked to memory. Through the application of certain chemicals in the brain, the synapses linked with earlier memories are activated over the ones linked with more recent memories."

"Is there a limit to how far back the memories can be affected?" Ciaran asked as the elevator reached their floor, the door opening to let them in.

"It depends on the person," The doctor replied as the two of them entered the elevator and he pressed the button to ascend to their destination. "It's... it's hard to explain as to how it works. We're still unsure whether dosage size affects how far back a subject remembers. Also, it seems that taking large doses affects the brain chemistry in an adverse manner."

"What do you mean?" Ciaran asked, raising an eyebrow at the man.

The doctor actually looked guilty for some reason as the only sound in the metal box was the thrum of the mechanism rising. "Just wait and see, sir."

The duo waited in silence as they ascended quickly to their destination, before exiting the stopped elevator. Walking down the corridor, Ciaran was surprised to see that even for a hospital, the area he was in was pretty spartan. There were no benches in the hallway, no medical equipment left waiting. There were very few doors that lead to other rooms, and the young man had a feeling that the doors that he did see were ones that lead to supply closets.

It was the sight at the opposite end of the corridor that tipped Ciaran off that he was at his destination: two guards, wearing the dark blue uniforms of the Britannian police. They weren't wearing any body armour, wearing only what looked like a forage cap on their heads the same colour as their uniforms and they seemed to only be armed with a nightstick and a pistol, which did confuse the young man.

"Not expecting a lot of trouble?" Ciaran asked, reaching to his pocket to take out his ID. As a reply, the doctor simply looked at him with a half-smile as he pushed his glass back up his nose.

"You've never seen what happens to a person who overdoses on Refrain, have you?"

Ciaran didn't even get a chance to shake his head 'no' before the door opened, revealing the room beyond.

* * *

It was quiet. Solemnly quiet. He'd known morgues quieter than this place.

To put a long story short: it was bloody quiet.

It was also clean. Much cleaner than he expected (although Ciaran would have to admit that he didn't know what he'd expect), and it lacked the smell of the industrial strength cleaning agents a person would associate with hospitals. The whole room smelt faintly like... citrus.

"As per the Sub-Viceroy's instructions, we've taken the liberty of making sure the patients are put at ease as much as possible." The doctor explained as he lead Ciaran down the space between the walls.

The young man certainly felt at ease as he walked down the room. A large window dominated one of the walls, bathing the whole area in natural sunlight. The room was painted a nice shade of off-white cream, not the right colour to create a glare from the sunlight but enough to keep the room warm.

Looking to his sides as they walked down, it suddenly dawned on Ciaran as to why it was so quiet. There were about eighteen people, not including the small number of nursing staff present, all of whom were Japanese, and all sitting or reclining in the beds. None of them seemed to really be doing anything except staring off in to space.

"Umm... what exactly is the adverse effect from large doses?" Ciaran asked as he looked a young man who was maybe a few years older than himself, just staring up at a point on the ceiling with vacant eyes, blinking slowly in a decidedly creepy manner.

"Neural cell death via apoptosis. Natural cell death." The doctor said, noting the momentary look of confusion on the young man's face. "Although it's closer to cell suicide over death. The uh, the synapses that are affected die, leaving the user in an invalid state."

Pausing, the sandy-blonde haired man stood in front of the bed of a woman, probably in her mid to late thirties with brown hair past her shoulders and vacant blue eyes.

Ciaran watched as the doctor reached down and removed the clipboard attached by a small hook to her bed before reading aloud.

"Miss Hitomi Kozuki. Age thirty-seven. Addiction to refrain. Shows lack of response to outside stimulus. Bodily functions, normal and body work normal save for minor case of malnutrition."

Looking directly at the woman on the bed, Ciaran could definitely see the resemblance between the half-race teenager and the woman sitting in the bed before him. Their eyes were the same shade of blue and they both had virtually the same facial features, although Hitomi's were more rounded and motherly against the sharp lines that Kallen's face possessed.

"Is there any chance that she'll recover?" Ciaran asked, prompting the doctor to shrug.

"I can't say with any surety. As I said, she's been unresponsive to virtually all sorts of outside stimulus, so who knows? It's not unusual, given her case. Many Numbers who get severely addicted to Refrain recover in their own time. It all depends on their own will-po..."

Ciaran tuned the man out as he moved closer to the woman sitting on the bed, sitting down gently on the bed beside her.

Slowly, Hitomi lifted her head slightly before turning to look at him, her vacant blue eyes looking directly at him as a small smile came to her face before she began speaking. The Japanese woman's native language flowed out too quickly for Ciaran to catch anything, if he could catch anything. But one word did stick out.

"Naoto?" He repeated back quietly. Ciaran wasn't sure she had heard, but the quizzical look on Kallen's mother's face and the tilt of her head told him that she had.

"Oh? Do you want to speak English?" She asked sweetly. "Have you been talking to your dad again, Naoto?"

Ciaran's mouth moved quietly as he tried to process what was going on. Turning his head, he tried to look at the doctor for help, but the man was busy waving over a nurse, quietly telling her to come quickly. Shaking his head, Ciaran turned back to looking at the woman with an expectant look on her face before, swallowing nervously, he replied.

"Y-yeah, mum. I-I've been talking with dad again."

The smile on her face broadened. "Oh, good. What did he say? Are we finally going to move to the Homeland?"

Again, Ciaran was at a lose of what to say, so he decided to play it safe. "Umm... no. He hasn't said anything yet. He... he keeps saying it's not the right time yet."

Hitomi let out a small huff. "Typical. It's just like him. Oh, well. It can't be helped."

Behind him, he heard quiet footsteps as one of the nurses came over at last. Looking over his shoulder, he could see the doctor and the nurse conversing quietly, a smile plain on the woman's face. The doctor waved his hands forward, indicating that Ciaran should continue speaking.

"Uh... mum, listen. I-"

"Where's Kallen?" Hitomi asked, leaning forward slightly as she moved her head from side to side, searching for the daughter in question. "Is she not with you?"

"Uh... no. She... she's at school right now."

"Oh, that's good." The Japanese woman said in reply as she leaned back in to her pillow. "How are her studies?"

"She's doing well." Ciaran said, almost instantly. He had no clue about how Kallen was doing with her studies, but he didn't want to break the image this woman had of her, and also the image that she had of him as Naoto.

He wasn't sure what prompted him to say it, but he found his mouth working before he could stop himself.

"Mum, I need to ask you something."

"Of course, darling. What's wrong?" She asked, looking at him carefully with her vacant eyes.

Looking over his shoulder again slyly, he gauged how much he should say with the hospital staff present. "I'm worried... about Kallen."

"Why? What's wrong?" Hitomi asked, sounding more than a little panicked now.

"I... I think she's getting in with some nasty people." Well, it was virtually the truth, if not directly literal. "And she won't listen to me when I say she should stay away from them. What should I do?"

Ciaran jumped slightly as he felt Hitomi's hand suddenly but gently take his as she smiled at him again before speaking softly. "Naoto. You're her big brother. Your job is to look after Kallen and protect her. If you think she's in trouble, you have to be there for her, no matter what happens. And if she's having such a hard time as she is, that's all the more reason for you to be there for her. And always remember that your mother loves you."

Ciaran was taken by surprise with the gesture, but looking at the woman's eyes, he was certain he could distinctly see a look of pride in her eyes as she look at him.

"All right, mum. I'll... I'll do my best." The Briton said in reply, not able to fight the break in his voice at this woman's kindness.

Looking at her face though, Ciaran's heart sank as he saw that she had returned to the same state he had found her in, just staring at a point on the wall past him. Behind him, he heard the doctor let out a groan of exasperation.

"Oh, come on. That was the longest time she was in a sound mental state." The man said in exasperation as Ciaran stood back up. Feeling an irritation in his eyes, the young man brought one of his hands up to his face.

Withdrawing his hand, he saw that it was wet. Not turning around to let the doctor see his face, Ciaran hurriedly wiped his eyes dry before turning to face the doctor who had his hands against his hips while beside him, the nurse simply shook her head, forlorn at the outcome.

As the young man turned around, the doctor flashed him a short lived but sincere smile. "You should come by again, if she responds to you like that."

Looking back at Hitomi and her vacant stare, Ciaran could only shake his head. "No. She responded to me, but I didn't help her. If anything, I made it worse."

"What do you mean?" The doctor asked, him and the nurse looking at him in confusion.

"You said the memories of her past are affected, right? I think you're correct. But I think it's only those memories that are being kept active, not her more recent memories."

"So what do you propose we do?" The nurse, a woman with auburn hair, deep brown skin and green almond shaped eyes, asked.

In reply, Ciaran simply put his hat on to his head, making sure it sat squarely on his head before, looking at the two of the medical professionals, he merely shrugged. "You guys went to medical school. It's your job to fix people, not mine."

The doctor looked at him flatly as the young man fixed his cap on to his head. "So was that it then?"

Looking around, Ciaran took in the room around him before shrugging. "You seem to be doing a good job here, so I don't think I'll need to say anything negative to the Sub-Viceroy."

The last part was kind of a half-lie. He knew that Euphemia would want to know how these people were being treated, but he knew he'd have to make it sound like his decision was something official.

"Besides," Ciaran continued as he moved away from the bed and in to the middle of the room. "The patient I wanted to see is... well, you know. But she's alive and in relatively good health, so that's what I'll take away from this visit."

"So I guess we're back to square one then." The man said ruefully, fiddling with his glasses again.

"Maybe." Ciaran said, giving Hitomi one look before walking to the entrance of the ward. The doctor or the nurse made no attempt to stop him so he left the area, walking past the two police guards before entering the elevator, pressing the button to descend to the ground floor.

Inside the metal box, he thought over what happened before. Hitomi had responded to him, thinking he was her son. Ciaran wasn't sure what the catalyst had been, but there had to be a way to replicate it. The sound of the descending elevator was coupled with the sound of the young Briton scratching the hair on his chin as the began thinking.

Making his way out of the elevator and out in to the foyer, Ciaran barely registered any of the goings on in the reception area, which had become marginally more busy since the last time he was there. He simply glided through the room, managing to weave around the staff and patients who had come to the hospital.

It was only when he was outside the automatic doors that the Briton stopped as his thoughts finally coalesced in to a plan. Fishing his mobile phone out of his pocket, he quickly pressed the buttons to dial a pre-entered number. Holding it to his ear, he heard the dial tone for a few seconds before it was answered.

"Darlton here."

"General, it's Ciaran," The young man said in to his end. "Listen, I might be a little bit late back today. Something has come up that I need to take care of."

The general was quiet for a few seconds, obviously taking in the information. "Okay. Don't be too long though. But just so I know: where will you be."

"Ashford Academy, sir."

* * *

No-one in the mathematics class at Ashford Academy could have known that the red-haired, sickly looking girl sitting in the fourth row, two chairs from the window on the left-side of the room was a member of the terrorist group. If there was any aspect of Kallen's life as a half-Japanese daughter of a Britannian aristocrat that she remotely appreciated, it was the fact that she had gotten good at putting up a mask.

Being at school was even worse for her, as the teenage terrorist hiding in plain sight listened to the teacher drone on about finding the X and Y components of a triangle. The girls her own age who she should probably try to socialise with were just vapid airheads, who never talked to each other about anything worthwhile. It was always the same almost stuff they wanted to talk about: fashion, celebrities and the such.

And the boys. Ugh, the boys. If Kallen wasn't so focused on keeping her image up, she'd hunt down whoever started that fan-club of her and she'd tell them what she thought of them. Loudly and physically.

As her eyes wandered around the room, they focused on the one person who seemed to focus all of her rage and annoyance on like a magnet: Lelouch Lamperouge, the teenage boy who looked incredibly bored. Oh, sure, practically all of the female students in the same year worshipped him and never said anything bad against him, but she could not see it.

Oh, sure he was handsome in an old-timey sort of way: tall, thin but with an angular face, onyx black hair and violet eyes that just seemed to bore in to you...

'Wait? No, scratch that last bit.' Kallen thought to herself as she shook her head free of those thoughts. Lelouch was good-looking but she knew the side of the side of him that no-one else had seemed to see or just ignored. That horribly ignoble and arrogant side that she saw before the fight at Kitakyushu.

* * *

 _Sitting in one of the many parks that dotted the Tokyo Settlement, the sight and sound of a large water fountain as it sprayed arcs of water in to the air before they landed in the pool of water at the bottom of the fountain, Kallen would have found her mind wandering on whatever topic was on her mind at the current time. Lately, it was the effect that the Black Knights were having on the Japanese people._

 _Right now however, her attention, the focus of her simmering anger, was directed at the teenager sitting directly next to her. Together, the two of them had watched an Honorary Britannian, the name given to those Japanese who swallowed their pride and put themselves under the heel of the Britannian administration in Area 11, be beaten up by a ground of Britannian thugs._

 _She and Lelouch had watched while everyone else had turned away as the poor man was beaten up, which seemed to have been the sole catalyst to get the thugs to approach the two of them. Luckily, the engagement had ended there as, somehow, Lelouch convinced the group to leave them alone. On some level, Kallen would have preferred to have a confrontation with the smug bastards, since looking at that poor man as he tried to get the two to buy a hot dog..._

 _It just..._

" _In some ways, Area 11 is better off than the old Japan ever was." The onyx haired teenager beside her suddenly said, startling her slightly as Lelouch began speaking. "Being made a colony of the Empire has stabilized its military and economic position in the world. Elevens can even attain full citizenship through the legal process. It's easy to become a honorary Britannian. Just a question of pride, really."_

 _The boy beside her shrugged as he finished speaking._

" _Though I can certainly understand why they'd resist."_

 _Kallen was confused now. She had suspected that Lelouch would say something like this. It was far from likely, if downright impossible, for her to hear a Britannian speak negatively about their own system. But something about Lelouch's tone. It made him sound... critical of the idea._

" _And?" she asked, looking at him with an arced eyebrow._

 _Lelouch looked her funny. "Hmm?"_

 _Okay, that answer annoyed Kallen. "Knowing all that, what does Lelouch Lamperouge think about it at all? What do you want to do?"_

 _The boy's amethyst eyes stared at her for a few seconds, her classmate contemplating his answer, before turning his head to look back at the fountain. "Nothing."_

 _This got Kallen's blood up a bit, as the boy beside her fell in to the snobby, stuck-up attitude she saw so many teenage aristocrats fall back on to._

" _You know, you've got a lot of brains but you don't seem to be doing much with them." Kallen said, looking at him with a sideways glance. "It's all Shirley talks about, saying how intelligent you are but how you barely ever apply yourself."_

" _That's why I don't do anything."_

 _That answer was definitely not what Kallen expected._

" _That Eleven we saw back there could tell you. He could lead a better life as long as he bows his head to Britannia."_

 _An image of her mother, kneeling on the floor of their mansion, dressed in her maid outfit, working to clean up the mess of a broken vase, flashed across her mind. Before she knew what was going on, she was on her feet and, raising her hand above her head, she brought it down sharply against his cheek, slapping him hard._

" _You must think you're pretty cool, huh? Just playing the critic and judging the world from the sidelines." She snapped at him, not caring if anyone else saw her outburst._

 _Drawing herself to her full height, Kallen felt the tiniest bit of satisfaction from looking down at Lelouch as he sat on the bench, his head bowed as he looked down at the ground._

" _Guess I was a fool to expect anything more from you. You know, I really thought you were a better man than this."_

 _Kallen didn't give him a chance to reply as she turned around and stormed off, leaving Lelouch sitting on the bench._

* * *

The sensation of someone poking her upper-arm drew Kallen back in to the present. Looking to her side, she saw the blue eyes of Milly Ashford looking at her in concern.

"Are you okay, Kallen?" The Student Council President asked, whispering quietly so as to now draw any undue attention to the two of them, which is completely at odds with her normal attitude.

Milly. One of only a few people who knew about her, who knew about her being half-Japanese. About her being a half-breed, mixed-race, whatever you wanted to call her. Even if the blonde-haired girl did take a somewhat... strange interest in Kallen (the red-head did her best to push aside the memory of that Milly groped her in the baths), she was still someone that Kallen would call a friend.

"I'm fine," Kallen replied, shaking her head slightly. "Just feeling a bit tired is all."

Milly nodded her head slightly before turning her head back to pay attention to the lesson. Kallen did the same, as she listened to the man in front of the class tell them how to figure out the problem given on the board.

The same school routine as always. Even the sound of someone knocking at the door didn't really take her by surprise.

What did take her by surprise were the quiet sounds of excitement coming from the majority of the female students in her class. Looking up from her notebook, Kallen instantly zeroed in on the source of their delight.

Rai, the silver-haired and blue-eyed stranger that turned up mysteriously at the Ashford Academy gates. Disorientated and amnesic, Milly, in one of her characteristic displays of kind-heartedness, took the young boy in, no questions asked, no questions taken, as was Milly's style.

Then one day, Rai had turned up at one of the Black Knights auxiliary bases. No-one saw him turn up, and no-one was particularly pleased by him turning up, but he had quickly proven his worth with being able to pilot a Burai, even managing to take out several Sutherlands at Narita.

Kallen hadn't interacted with him much, but she knew that he didn't normally look as uneasy as he did as he walked over to the teacher, forcing the man to bend down to listen to Rai as he said something that she couldn't hear over her classmates.

She was surprised again as she watched the teacher's face drop as the silver-haired boy continued speaking before looking at him in shock. For his part, Rai still looked uneasy and glanced behind him at the door before looking back at the teacher and nodding.

The sound of a hand knocking on the door three times took everyone by surprise. Looking at the door, the teacher visibly swallowed before speaking up.

"Come in."

The door opened with a hiss as it slid in to the wall. The sound of a collective intake of breath coming from the class filled the air, but instead of shock, the only emotion that came to Kallen's mind was one of dread.

Standing in the threshold of the door way, dressed in a dark brown jacket with it's sleeves rolled above his elbows, dark blue jeans and a drab green field cap, the same colour as his pilot suit, stood Captain Forsyth, then man Inoue had captured at Narita. He looked more rested and his facial hair had been smartened up, but to her, it made him seem that bit more frightening.

Mutterings of intrigue from the other students, phrases like "Who's he?" from both genders, "Oh, he's quite handsome" from some of the girls and "He looks like a bit of a badass" from some of the boys, reached her ears, but Kallen didn't any serious attention to them as she watched the captain walk a bit further in to the room, moving towards the teacher, who looked as shocked as she did. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Rai had managed to slide himself to stand behind the teacher.

"Umm... might I ask who you are... sir?" The man asked, obviously confused as to how to address him. In reply, Captain Forsyth reached in to one of his pockets and drew out a small card, an ID card, Kallen guessed, then handed it to the teacher.

Kallen watched as the older man's eyes widened in shock at the information that she knew it contained: a captain of Princess Cornelia's Royal Guard. The teacher began visibly sweating, as he held the card in a shaky hand before he opened his mouth and said the words Kallen wished he wouldn't say.

"... Royal Guard..."

The mutterings increased in volume and Kallen wished her hardest that she could sink in to the floor below her.

The teacher handed the card back to Captain Forsyth, before trying to regain some form of decorum, ignoring the sounds from the class.

"And, uh, why are you here, sir?"

In reply, the captain turned himself fully, his eyes looking directly at Kallen before raising a hand and pointing a finger at her. "I'm here to talk to her, Kallen Stadtfeld."

The room fell deathly silent as all eyes turned to focus on the red-haired teen who simply sat like a rabbit caught in a car's headlights.

Neither party made a move, Kallen remaining rooted to her chair while Captain Forsyth simply placed one hand over the other before placing them over his waist. Seconds ticked away like hours before, without saying a word, Kallen pushed her chair back and stood up then walked towards the officer.

The room was silent as she walked past Captain Forsyth, who moved aside to let her pass, and in to the hallway. In the hall, she stood with her back to the British-born officer as she heard the close shut behind them, before quickly rounding on him, an angry look on her face, a retort ready on her lips.

"Not here." The captain said, cutting her off by raising a hand up. "Too many ears. We'll talk outside."

Kallen looked past him as she closed her mouth, imaging all of the people pressed up against the door or wall, trying to hear what they had to say.

"I know a place we can speak freely." She said, before walking past him down the corridor, forcing the officer to follow her silence.

As she led him down the hallway, Kallen thought about what she should do. Her first instinct was to lead him somewhere quiet, then just slice his throat. It would be satisfying, but it would create far more trouble than she already had. How would she be able explain how, after the Brit had asked to see her, he suddenly wound up dead?

Before long, the duo had made their way outside the school and in to one of the garden areas. Tall, well groomed trees stood along a paved pathway, around which stood a well tended lawn. The path was in full sight of several other classrooms, but they were well outside of earshot unless one of them started shouting.

Stopping in the middle of the path, Kallen spun around to face Captain Forsyth, her face a mask of anger. "Okay, now what do you want?"

The officer stopped short, looking at her in surprise.

"All right," The man said after a few seconds of just blinking at her before his face became an impassive mask again. "I imagine you know that the Government here has tabs on you after Nagano, right?"

Kallen nodded her head slowly. "I know."

The captain nodded as he put his hands behind his back and started walking towards then to the side of Kallen, so that he was standing on just a little bit behind her right shoulder.

"I also imagine that that must be putting a fair bit of stress on you, no?" He said nonchalantly, causing Kallen to snort in derision without turning around.

"You have no clue."

A small chuckle came from behind her. "Well, you'll be glad to know that you've got nothing to fear. You're no longer being watched."

For the second time today, Kallen's body froze up on her. Her eyes opened wide before she slowly turned to look at the man behind her. "Wha... what did you say?"

The man was looking up at the sky, the bill of his cap obscuring his face from Kallen's sight as he spoke without turning to look at her. "It's exactly as I said: General Darlton has agreed to my request to call off any surveillance that's following you."

Turning slowly, Captain Forsyth looked at her with a small smile as he watched her process the news, the red-head's mouth moving up and down.

"So..." Kallen finally said after a few seconds, "Am I off the hook?"

The man's face suddenly morphed in to a look that suggested that she had told a bad joke. "Yeah, nice try. If anything your my personal problem now."

Kallen's face turned in to a look of dumbstruck belief, her jaw almost dropping and her eyes opening wide at what the man said.

"Although," He said as he continued speaking, moving his head up as he gripped the bridge of nose with his thumb and forefinger, "I'm not one-hundred percent sure what that entails, to be honest with you. So whether that is a good thing or a bad thing, I have no idea."

Kallen just looked at the man before her as she took in what this man said.

Was he being serious? He had gotten the Viceroy's top general to get her off the hook, only to get him to be the one to be looking after her, and he had no idea what he would be doing?

"How did you become a captain again?" Kallen asked in a deadpan voice as he looked at the officer in contempt.

In reply, the captain merely shrugged as he removed his hand from his face as a small smile came to his face. "I ask myself that question often, Kallen."

Kallen looked at the man standing before her. He was something special, she definitely would not deny that. It confused her, and she didn't like being confused.

"Why?" She asked, looking at him sternly. "Why are you doing this?"

Captain Forsyth's smile fell from his face as a look that Kallen did not expect to see cross his face: a look of quiet guilt. Removing his hat, the captain ran a hand through his hair, the fingers moving through his dark brown curls before replacing the hat back on his head, fixing the bill in place as he fixed his eyes on to Kallen's.

"I like you."

The half-Japanese girl felt her cheeks go red, to which the man rolled his eyes.

"Not like that, you daft girl!" He yelled before speaking more softly. "I mean that I think you're an interesting girl. You're strong, and you're intelligent. And I don't want to see you squander those gifts."

Kallen opened her mouth to speak before the man held his hand up, silencing her.

"Please, let me make my peace before you reply. Okay?"

Closing her mouth slowly, Kallen nodded her head, letting him speak.

"Thank you," Captain Forsyth said as he lowered his hand. "Life's handed you a crap hand, and I won't lie about that. But instead of folding, you doubled down and you're sticking to it. But instead of using your lot in life to better the world around you, you're dancing to someone else's music."

Kallen furrowed her eyebrows in confusion at the metaphors this man was using, which did not escape the Brit's attention, making him sigh in response.

"Basically, you have the ability to be something great and instead of using those talents, you're letting someone else control you and dictate what you should do."

"How is that any different than what you're doing?" Kallen replied, suddenly glaring at the man.

"What do you mean?"

"You're following someone else's orders and you're not doing anything to better your lot."

A rueful smile came to the captain's face as he looked away from Kallen before he spoke again.

"You're right. But there's a reason for that."

"I'm listening." Kallen said, crossing her arms across her chest.

Turning fully, the man moved to one of the benches near them and sat down heavily. Resting his elbows on his knees, he was silent for a while as he leaned forward, before lifting his head and began speaking.

"I went to a bog-standard comprehensive school in Britain. I was a C-average student. I also fucked up my A-levels so I wouldn't have been able to get in to a university if I wanted to." Taking a deep sigh, he leant backwards, not taking his eyes off Kallen. "And then this whole shit happens with me ending up here. Joining the Britannian army was the only chance I had to make something of myself and you know what I've found?"

Kallen shook her head but couldn't help but be a bit perturbed at the smile on the man's face.

"I've found that it's something I'm good at. This is my only chance to make something of myself and I'm sure as hell going to follow through with it."

The red-haired girl looked at the officer in confusion as he continued speaking.

"I chose this path since it was the only one open to me. But you have so many more options open to you. I don't want you to end up on a path that leads to nowhere."

Kallen just stared at the man sitting in front of her. He was basically repeating what he had said to her after he was captured at Narita to try and get her to leave the Black Knights, and she had already said that she wouldn't. But, once again, she couldn't help but feel that everything he said was... genuine. It wasn't logical like Zero's and it wasn't an attempt to guilt her in to doing something like her bitch of a stepmother would try to do, but everything he said... it struck her in a way she hadn't heard in years.

"It looks like it's going to rain."

Realizing she had spaced out, Kallen blinked her eyes and saw that Captain Forsyth's head was tilted back against the bench and he was looking at the sky. Looking up as well, she saw that the sky was becoming overcast, dark grey clouds darkening the sky as they covered the sun.

"I've never seen the sky this dark before." Kallen said as she looked at the sky, which earned a small chuckle from the officer.

"My mum always said I took the weather with me." The captain said with a hint of nostalgia before, sighing, he pushed himself to stand up to his feet and began walking past Kallen.

"Where are you going?" The girl asked, spinning around to follow him.

"I've got one more person to see before I leave. I need to find Suzaku Kururugi." The man said as he continued walking, moving away from the school block before he stopped dead and turned back around to face her. "Any idea where I could find him?"

Kallen resisted the urge to slam her palm against her face. This man was a strange mix of infuriatingly dense and amazingly honest.

"Since I missed the last part of class, I'll take you to the student council's clubhouse. He'll probably be there."

"Lead the way." The captain as he gestured for Kallen to move ahead of him. Soon the two were walking in a fairly comfortable silence with the man walking a few paces behind her, which surprised the teenage terrorist. This man had somehow managed to make her like him, in an oddly infuriating way.

"So," She asked out of the blue, interrupting the silence as she turned her head to look at him. "Do you get a chance to talk to your mum?"

The captain shook his head. "I can't risk it, unfortunately. Too dangerous for her."

The girl nodded in understanding as the pair carried on walking.

"Although I did manage to talk to your mum."

Kallen skidded to a halt as she took in what he said. Turning around, she looked at him with wide eyes. "Wha...?"

"I went to see her today." The captain said in a placating tone. "I've not had a chance to check on her because of what's happening..."

"How is she? Is she all right?" Kallen asked, firing off the questions faster than she thought she ever could before falling silent as Captain Forsyth put his hands on to her arms.

"Kallen. Calm down. She's fine, but she needs more help to kick her drug habit than we thought." He said as he looked in to her eyes. "She's in an unresponsive state, but she's being fed and she's healthy."

Without realising it, Kallen released the breath that she didn't know she'd been holding as she stepped back from the officer. Putting a hand on her hip and the other against her head, she sighed with relief at the news as a smile came to her face. Her mother was alive!

She couldn't resist the slight spring in her step as the pair continued walking to the clubhouse.

"Who's Naoto?" Captain Forsyth asked from behind her, shattering Kallen's good mood as, once again, she stopped in her tracks.

What was with this guy and knowing how to hit all the buttons to piss her off?

"He was my brother." Kallen said flatly.

"When did he die?" The man said in a sympathetic tone.

"What makes you think he's dead?" She replied in turn, not turning to look at him.

"You wouldn't saw he 'was' your brother if he was alive." Captain Forsyth replied matter-of-factly, but still keeping the sympathetic tone in his voice.

"How do you know about him?" Kallen asked, finally turning around to look at him, her face devoid of any mood.

The man's eyes moved up, showing he was thinking about what to say next. "When... I went to visit your mother, she thought that I was Naoto. It's a symptom of her addiction to Refrain."

Kallen didn't say anything as she looked the man, her blue eyes burrowing in to him. To his credit, Captain Forsyth didn't back down or turn away from her gaze. After a few moments, Kallen sighed before she spoke.

"Naoto was killed during a skirmish with the Britannian military four years ago."

The sound of a sharp intake of breath came from the captain as he shut his eyes in a grimace at the news. "And I imagine that's the same time you-"

"The same time I joined the group my brother started to fight the Britannians, yes." Kallen said, conviction heavy in her voice. "I vowed to avenge my brother's death and make the Britannians pay for what they did to Japan."

Captain Forsyth's eyes snapped open and shot Kallen a glare that made her shrink back a bit. "There you go again."

"Wha-what are you talking about?" Kallen stammered out.

"Your hypocrisy. You condemn the Britannians for the violent things their government has done, but you have no compunction using violence yourself."

"Bullshit!" Kallen roared back. "We've only ever fought against the military."

"Then what about you hiding the gas container in Shinjuku ghetto, right in the middle of a fucking population centre?" The man asked sternly, taking a few steps towards her.

Kallen's eyes narrowed. "That gas would have been used to liquidate the ghetto anyway. And how does that excuse the fact that Clovis ordered a massacre of the ghetto?"

"I never said it did. But you cannot use that to excuse the fact that you willingly put innocent lives at risk for your own ends."

Biting her lip, Kallen looked down at the floor before looking back up at the captain. "We... really didn't have that concrete a plan for after we stole the canister."

Looking at the man, she watched his face to see what his reaction would be. No emotion showed on the man's face until he blinked in surprise as heavy raindrop splattered loudly against the bill of his cap. Quickly on the heels of that raindrop, Kallen felt one hit her squarely on top of the head.

"Oh, hell..." She said to herself as the heaven's opened, catching the both of them in the heavy downpour, before she spun around to look for the clubhouse. Seeing it was like seeing an oasis in a desert, as it was only a couple of dozen yards away from where they were standing.

"Leg it!" The man cried out as he began running towards the building, Kallen quickly following in close beside him, feeling the rain splash against her. Their bolt across the school grounds was easy since the paving wasn't too flat, but she still wished that she could wear the same sort of boots that the captain was wearing instead of the school shoes she was wearing as he easily moved across the school grounds before ascending the steps leading in to the clubhouse.

The rain had felt cold on her skin, but inside the clubhouse, Kallen felt warmth flood back in to her as she passed through the threshold in to the clubhouse. The whole building just oozed tranquillity and no matter how much she tried to fight it, she genuinely liked being in the clubhouse.

The large bay windows that normally let in large amounts of sunlight on to the large two-way staircase made from white marble that lead to the second floor and the inner balcony. Currently, the rainy sky cast everything in a grey shadow, but the large chandelier and lights helped bathe the foyer of the building in a warming glow.

"Nice place." Captain Forsyth observed as he removed his hat from his head and shook the rainwater off the garment. Kallen couldn't help but snicker at the sight of the man's head of curly dark brown hair had become compressed by the hat, forming a tight ring of flattened hair around his head before tucking it under his arm.

Kallen nodded as she turned to look at him. Her eyes opened wide as she saw that, almost as soon as he turned to look at her, a blush crept over his face and he quickly turned his head to look away.

"What's wrong?" She asked, confused.

"We... we should find a towel or something." The man said distractedly as he moved towards the centre of the foyer, looking around to try and figure out which way to go.

Still rooted to her spot, Kallen tried to figure out what he was so embarrassed about, looking at the man's back in confusion before she felt a drop of rainwater slide down the side of her neck before it slid across her chest and under shirt.

Looking down, Kallen felt the colour drain from her skin as she saw the reason why the captain had blushed when he saw her: her light tan uniform had been soaked by the rain. She hadn't been in the rain long enough for it become completely soaked through, but what rain had hit her had been enough to soak through her white shirt underneath, revealing far more of her cleavage than she'd like.

A rustling from in front of her drew her attention back to the officer in front of her. Watching him, Kallen watched as he removed his jacket and, without looking back, handed it to her.

"Until we find a towel." He said before he began moving in to the foyer further.

Snatching the jacket from his hand, Kallen wrapped it around her body as she followed the man in to the building.

"Can I help you?" A quiet voice sounded from behind the two of them, making Kallen shriek in shock and the captain yell out as the two spun around.

Behind them, stood a woman of Japanese descent, standing about the same height as both of them. She was dressed in the black and white uniform of a stereotypical maid, complete with tiny little white hat sitting on top of her head of brown hair. Her hazel eyes scrutinized both of them.

"Bloody Christ." Captain Forsyth said, moving his right hand away from his hip to rest it on his chest. "And you are?"

"Sayoko." Kallen answered. "She's the maid of one of the students here."

"Miss Stadtfeld." The maid said with a curtsey as she addressed the red-haired girl before turning to the officer, to whom she curtseyed again. "Sir. How may I be of assistance?"

"We'd like a towel, if possible." The man said, getting over his initial shock.

Sayoko simply nodded before motioning for both of them to follow her.

The maid lead the pair up the main flight of stairs before moving guiding them up the right hand flight of stairs. Soon, the trio were walking down a well fashioned and well maintained hallway, lined with a burgundy carpet padding the floor. The sound of the downpour outside filled the building, sending a small shiver down Kallen's spine, making her wrap the jacket tighter around her frame.

Quickly, the two were shown to large room, a dining room from the shape and size of the large oval table taking up the space in the middle of the room. A large window to the right side of the room faced out on to the academy grounds, which were currently devoid of any people because of the heavy rain.

"Please remain here." Sayoko said softly, looking at both of them with an expressionless face. "I'll return shortly with a towel for each of you."

"Sayoko?" Kallen said quickly, catching the maid's attention. "Could you bring a dry shirt for me too?"

"Of course, Miss Stadtfeld." The maid replied smartly, curtseying and bowing her head before exiting the room leaving the two alone again. The sound of the heavy rain hitting the windows was the only source of sound in the room.

Looking around, Kallen tried to find some way to break the silence. Her eyes scanned the various bits of furniture; well-crafted cabinets made from white painted wood set against the walls. On top of the closest cabinet, she saw what looked like a purple briefcase sitting on the top of it. Moving towards it, she realised that she had seen Lelouch carry it several times when he had left with his friend, Rivalz, to bunk off school.

Drawing near it, she snapped the two locks open and lifted up the top half of the case.

"Oh." She said in surprise as the sound of foot steps drew up behind her.

"A chess set?" Captain Forsyth asked from behind her as he leaned past her to look at it.

Sure enough, sitting inside the case was a complete chess set: in the middle was a board, folded in half, with chequered black and red squares on top of a wooden frame, surrounded on one side by pieces made from black wood and on the other side by pieces made from white wood.

"I've not played chess in ages." Kallen said to herself as she lifted the case off the cabinet, a nostalgic tone in her voice.

"It's been nearly seven years since I last played a chess game, if my memory's right." The officer said, his voice carrying the same nostalgia Kallen's did.

Without a word, the man reached over, picking up the box before he walked over to the large table.

"Care for a game?" He said with a smile as he placed the case down on the tabletop.

Looking at the man as he set out the chess board and began setting up the pieces, Kallen shrugged before moving towards the opposite side of the table. Looking down, she noticed that the board was set up so that the pieces faced the short edges of the table, not the long edges. She also saw that the man had put his cap on the tabletop beside his chair.

"Which hand?" The captain asked. Looking up, Kallen saw that he was holding both hands, his fingers closed around what she assumed to be two different pieces, towards her.

Her blue eyes flicked back and forth between the closed fists, trying to guess which hand she should choose. After a few seconds, she pointed to his left hand, which the captain promptly unfurled, revealing a black pawn.

"White moves first." Captain Forsyth said, handing the piece to Kallen before sitting and down and turning the board so they both had their respective colours.

The game began quickly, with the captain moving his pawns forward, Kallen copying the same, before using his knights to back up the pawns before the two finally clashed in the centre of the board.

Now Kallen would readily admit that she wasn't the best chess player. All of the games she had played against her dad, he had said that she was too aggressive in her play style. And it showed. She had lost all but two of her pawns, one of her bishops and one of her knights. Of the white pieces, she had only managed to capture five pawns and a knight in turn.

She was in trouble.

The sound of the door sliding open drew both players attention as they watch Sayoko enter the room, carrying a bundle of white towels and a white shirt wrapped with a small cardboard.

"Miss Stadtfeld. Sir." She bowed again. "I have the towels for you and also the change of shirt."

"Thank you, Sayoko." Kallen said as the maid put the small pile on to the tabletop, standing up from her chair to move to the pile of fabric. Picking up the clean shirt along with a towel, she realised that she still had Captain Forsyth's jacket draped over her shoulders.

"I shall take the jacket from you, Miss Stadtfeld." Sayoko said, somehow reading the teenagers thoughts. "I'll return it to the gentleman after putting it through the tumble dryer."

The girl looked at the man sitting at the table, who simply nodded at the idea. In turn, Kallen removed the jacket from her shoulders before handing it to the maid, who folded it before taking it in her arms.

"There's a card in the breast-pocket," The captain called out to Sayoko. "I forgot to take it out. If it's been ruined, just bin it."

The maid nodded her head before she glided out of the room, leaving the two alone again.

Not saying anything, Kallen moved towards the door.

"I'm going to get changed in the bathroom." Kallen said flatly, not bothering to look at the man before she left the room.

She didn't need any help to find the bathroom, not after the incident with the champagne and Lelouch catching her naked in the shower. Luckily, this time he wasn't around and also, she didn't need to get fully undressed.

Entering the room, she quickly removed her tan jacket and put it in to the clothes bin before removing her white shirt. Looking at the two garments, they were thoroughly soaked, but the jacket would dry out sooner than the white shirt, but the shirt was soaked right through.

Standing in just her skirt and bra, Kallen put the clean jacket on the counter top before she began drying herself off with the towel, feeling the soft fabric brush over her skin. As she did, she let her mind wander.

Kallen could not wrap her mind around this man. He just seemed to do whatever he wanted and it pissed her off! He had no right asking her about Naoto and going to check on her mother.

But he had taken the time to come and tell her himself that the Britannians wouldn't be tailing her, and he had also taken the time to check on her mother in the hospital.

His whole attitude stank of those do-gooder Britannians who went in to the ghettos claiming to help the Japanese when all they were really looking for was an attempt to inflate their ego and gain some form of sycophantic sympathy.

But him... everything about him was sincere. His talk about her mother needing help was said with the earnest tone of a doctor caring for a patient. His questions about Naoto were asked with genuine curiosity and his reaction to the news of his death was real.

'Who is he?' She asked herself as she dried her hair, watching in the mirror as the towel fluffed up her red hair.

A knock at the door made her jump, nearly dropping the towel in shock.

"I'll be out in a minute." Kallen called out, making sure to keep up the sickly persona.

"Kallen, is that you?" The distinctively sweet of Shirley Fenette sounded from the other side of the door.

"Umm... yeah. It's me, Shirley. Just... give me a minute." Kallen said, hastily slipping on the clean shirt. After doing up the buttons, she opened the door to reveal Shirley and Rivalz standing in the hallway, both carrying their school cases and looking more than a little wet, both with a look of worry on their faces.

"Kallen, are you all right?" Rivalz asked, the worry on his face a complete and uncomfortable contrast with the usually carefree look on his face. "We heard about what happened."

"What do you mean?" Kallen asked, looking at the blue-haired boy hopefully. She really hoped that this incident hadn't be blown out of proportion.

"About you being taken out of class by a member of the Viceroy's Royal Guard." Shirley intoned, staring at her in shock. "Is everything all right?"

Kallen was unsure of what to say for a few seconds before she realised the two students were staring at her. "Yeah, no. Everything is all right. It's just... it's just a personal matter."

"Is everything fine?" Rivalz repeated.

"Yes," Kallen said, nodding her head vigorously, one part annoyed by their constant questioning but also somewhat glad that the pair cared enough about her to ask. "Everything's fine."

The pair looked at her for a few seconds before they nodded their heads. Reaching in to her bag, Shirley rummaged around inside for a little bit before she pulled out a hairbrush and handed it to Kallen. The redhead looked at it in confusion for a little bit before she turned around and leaned in to the bathroom to look at the mirror: her hair had gotten out of the style she usually wore it when she wore it at school.

"Thank you, Shirley." Kallen said as she took the brush before entering the bathroom proper and began grooming her hair. "So, does everyone in school know what happened?"

"Pretty much." Shirley replied, shrugging. "The Prez saw what happened, but she's been unusually tight lipped about it."

Kallen paused mid-brush for a split second before continuing to straighten her hair. Out of all the people here, only Milly and the captain knew that she was half-Japanese, and it was very unlikely, if not outright impossible, that Milly would tell anyone.

"That's nice of her." She said with a small smile.

After making sure her hair was down again, Kallen walked back in to the hallway, giving the brush back to Shirley. "So is it just you two?" She asked.

"No," Rivalz said with a shake of his head. "Lelouch and Milly are here too. They went in to the dining room, and I think Suzaku's supposed to be coming here soon."

Kallen couldn't suppress the smile that came to her face at the idea of Captain Forsyth having to deal with Milly.

"Shall we go and join them then?" Shirley said, happiness returning to her face and, despite her efforts, Kallen couldn't help but be swept up by her enthusiasm as she joined the duo in walking to the dining room.

* * *

Sitting in his dining room in the clubhouse, Lelouch fought incredibly hard to suppress the smile that he felt coming to his lips. Ever since the man had foiled his plans when they first met, the teenager who masqueraded as Zero had spent a little more time than he probably should have at wondering how he could humiliate the British-born captain. The man's stay with him Narita hadn't done anything to lessen Lelouch's anger at the man.

But now, sitting across Captain Forsyth with his own personal chess board sitting in the space between them, Lelouch was certain he would finally get his revenge.

It hadn't been that big a shock to see that the captain and Kallen had been playing a game of chess, but it had surprised Lelouch to see how badly the redhead had been loosing to the officer. He had started with a disadvantage but, in his typical fashion, after employing several feints and false leads, had reversed the situation.

The man sitting across from him, a look of extreme concentration on his face, had had to watch as his forces had been whittled down to leave only his king, two pawns and a rook. It hadn't been wholly one-sided however. The captain had fought an impressive defensive action, claiming a few of his pawns in return. But it did nothing but delay the inevitable.

Lelouch watched with a grim sense of satisfaction as he watched the man, his fingers grasping the top of the white king, as he was backed in to a corner. He was basically surrounded: his king was blocked, his rook was of little help and his pawns were to far forward to give any assistance.

"Jeez, Lelouch." Milly said from her place sitting on the table beside him, sound sympathetic for the captain's plight. "You really don't like playing nicely, do you?"

The onyx-haired boy merely chuckled darkly as he turned his head to look at the blonde teenage. "Only when it comes to chess, Milly."

Looking back at the officer, Lelouch felt his eyes narrow as he saw that man hadn't moved at all, just keeping his fingers on the piece as he stared at the board in complete concentration.

"Are you going to make a move?" He asked testily.

"I'm thinking." The man replied sharply, his voice almost more like a grumble.

Lelouch simply resigned himself to rolling his eyes as he leant back in the chair. If the fool wanted to extend his own execution, then so be it.

The sound of the door opening drew his attention as he turned his head to watch Rivalz and Shirley enter the room, Kallen in tow behind them.

"And look who's finally joined us!" Milly said in mock surprise, standing up from her seat to walk over to the redhead.

"How much trouble did I cause?" He heard Kallen ask, to which Milly simply waived off the question with a literal wave of her hand.

"Everyone started making up stories as soon as you two left. They ranged from you being arrested to the two of you dating."

The redhead simply rolled her eyes in distaste while sharp but loud laugh came from the seated man. "Bloody hell, this takes me back to my high school days."

Lelouch watched as Rivalz nodded his head sympathetically before the blue-haired boy looked at the officer. "How do you two know each other anyway?"

The seated man fell silent for a moment, his eyes moving to look at Kallen.

"We met in the Settlement." Kallen said quickly. "I was out shopping with my stepmother and we bumped in to him."

"But why was he asking for you today though?" Shirley asked, which was a question Lelouch wanted to ask as well. This time, the question was answered by the captain.

"I'm afraid that's none of your business, lass." The man said, still not taking his fingers of his piece. "What I had to say with Kallen is between me and her."

Everyone else in the room nodded their head at the man's words, but Lelouch couldn't really focus on the glib answer since he still hadn't moved that bloody king!

"Are you going to move or not?" Lelouch said in annoyance, glaring at the man across from him.

A thin smile came across Captain Forsyth's lips as he lifted up the white king from the board then, with the same ease that someone would show when flicking on a light switch, he tilted the piece so that it turned sideways before putting it on the chessboard to have the king lying on its side.

"What?!" Lelouch called out, putting his hands on the table as he rocketed forward, trying to see if what just happened was some form of illusion. Meanwhile, the captain simply leant back in his chair, the smile still on his face.

"What happened?" Milly said as she moved forwards to look at what happened.

"I forfeited." The officer simply said.

A small 'ooh' of surprise from Rivalz sounded from behind Lelouch, but he didn't care.

"You can't do that." Lelouch said firmly.

"What are you talking about?" The man replied.

"You can't forfeit." The boy replied.

"Where in the rules does it say I can't forfeit?" The officer asked, looking quite annoyed.

"It..." Lelouch began, knowing that there wasn't a rule that explicitly stated that a player couldn't forfeit when he wanted to, but the timing of it just smacked of desperation. "It...well it doesn't. But why wouldn't you play the game out?" Lelouch asked.

"Because I know I'm going to lose." The officer stated testily. "I know when I'm licked. Why prolong it any more than needed? Plus, I am still on the clock you know."

"That's no excuse!" Lelouch yelled out, hitting the table hard, making the pieces and a few of his friends jump, while the man remained seated and looking at him.

"Hey, hey, hey!" The familiar voice of Suzaku filled the air, coming from the doorway. "What's going on, Lelouch? What's got you so angry?"

Lelouch was about to round on his friend when a sweeter, softer voice filled the air. "What's wrong, Lelouch?"

Watching his friends part out of the way, from the doorway materialized the reason for his hatred of Britannia, the reason for his exile and the only reason why he had stayed alive for so long: his little sister, Nunnally, dressed in the pink and white girls uniform of the junior year of Ashford Academy and her long, wavy sandy-blonde hair trailing down the length of her back. As always, her eyes, which should have shone a resplendent violet, were closed, as they had been ever since that day seven years ago.

Lelouch couldn't help but smile at the sight of her little sister. Yet out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Captain Forsyth stood up, a shocked look on his face as his mouth moved up and down wordlessly while he looked back and forth between the members of the student council, trying to figure out what was going on. Luckily for him, Suzaku spoke up first.

"Captain Forsyth!" The Japanese teen called out, surprised to see the man in the council clubhouse. "I didn't know you were the member of the Viceroy's Royal Guard who came to see Kallen."

"Yeah, well... it's me." The man said, shrugging at the comment before scratching his beard as confusion came to his face. "Umm... are you going to introduce me?"

"Oh! Do we have a guest?" Nunnally said sweetly, putting her hands together before holding one of her hands out, indicating for the man to come towards her.

"Oh, right." Suzaku said, reading the situation as he waved the officer to come towards him and Nunnally. "Nunnally, this is one of my senior officers, Captain Ciaran Forsyth. Captain, this is Nunnally Lamperouge, Lelouch's younger sister."

"A pleasure to meet you, young miss." The officer said politely as he knelt down, taking Nunnally's outstretched hand with one of his own.

Lelouch was always cautious about anyone coming near his sister, especially if one of them was a member of Cornelia's Royal Guard (in retrospect, that one was quite a new fear, but it was still quite a big one), so he watched closely as the captain knelt down and put one of his hands against Nunnally's own hand.

It was subtle, so if Lelouch hadn't been watching her, he would have missed it, but Nunnally's body shuddered gently. The captain didn't seem to notice it however as he simply smiled at the young girl.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain." Nunnally said in that same sweet tone of voice she always used. "Were you playing chess against big brother?"

"It's nice to meet you too." The man said with a smile as he nodded. "Yes, I was. And I was loosing horribly too."

"And then he decided to cut and run." Lelouch said testily, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Oh, leave it alone, will you?" The captain said testily as he turned to look at the teenager. "You could have ended that game ages ago, but you were just drawing it out."

"Is it not a commander's job to make sure his enemy is beaten as soundly as possible?" Lelouch asked.

"Oh, dear lord." Captain Forsyth said, rolling his eyes as he stood up to his feet. "Please do not tell me you're one of these people who think chess is an allegory for war."

"Well what else is it?" Lelouch asked. He had heard people try and make this argument before but it made no sense.

"A game?" The man said as he looked at Lelouch. From the corner of his eye, the teen saw Rivalz and Shirley nod their heads.

"He's not wrong, Lelouch." The blue-haired teen said. "Sure you can make money from it, but it is just a game."

Lelouch looked like someone had just shown him a picture of his father naked. Chess? A game? It was no such thing. It was a way of life for intellectuals such as himself and it was the perfect example of higher thinking in strategy and tactics.

"It is not a game!"

"No, it is a game, Lelouch." The man said flatly, sounding like he was giving a lecture to a problem student. "As for the idea that it can be used to simulate war, than it does a sh... stunningly poor job at it."

"Good save." Lelouch heard Milly mutter to the captain, who merely nodded his thanks before continuing to speak.

"War has far too many variables which you cannot replicate in chess. You can't bomb an opponent's manufacturing centres to stem the flow of supplies. You can't insert special forces team to disrupt lines of movement or assassinate an enemy commander. Chess gives you an unrealistic situation: that you and your opponent will face each other on even terrain with an equal number of forces."

Lelouch felt his eyes narrow slightly as he looked at the captain. He had been given the same sort of lecture from Cornelia when she had returned home from the officer's academy.

"If you want to have a go at replicating actual combat as a commander," Captain Forsyth said, ignoring the hostile look Lelouch was giving him. "Play a good real-time strategy game. Or take up tabletop war gaming. That's what I did."

"Oh, there's a club for that!" Shirley perked up, clapping her hands together as a smile came to her face. "Maybe you should have a go at that, Lelouch."

"I just might." Lelouch said, instilling his voice with false modesty. "Of course, if the captain would be willing to oblige me a game at some point in the future."

The man looked at him for a few moments before he shrugged, the same small smile on his face. "Maybe. But it probably won't be for a while. I think I've probably caused too much trouble as it is for you guys." He said apologetically.

'You have no idea.' Lelouch said mentally as he smiled back.

"Oh, it's stopped raining." Nunnally's voice chirped up, making everyone look at her before turning to look at the window. Sure enough, the rain had stopped and the dark rain clouds had began retreating, letting the blue sky shine through.

The tinny sound of a phone going off filled the air as, rolling his eyes, the captain reached in to one of his pockets and drew out his phone. Flipping up the screen, he pressed the call button before lifting it to his ear.

"Captain Forsyth here. Oh, Viceroy. Hello." The man said, obviously surprised at who was on the other end of the line. "I'm at Ashford Academy. It's... a personal errand."

From where he was standing, Lelouch couldn't fully hear what was going on on the other end of the line, but it sounded like Cornelia wasn't happy, especially if Captain Forsyth's fearful face was anything to go by.

"Well, it started raining heavily and... Yes, my Lady, I know I should have returned to the Palace an hour ago but... Yes, my Lady, I'm just about to leave now. Okay. Goodbye, your Highness."

The man pocketed the phone and turned to look at the group, a look of worry on his face, which gave Lelouch no small amount of satisfaction to see.

"I'm in trouble." The man said simply. "I need to get going."

"I have your jacket ready for you, sir." Sayoko said, materializing out of nowhere as she seemed to love to do. Her appearance made several of the group jump, the captain among them, before she moved towards the man. In her hands, she held a dark brown jacket in her hands which looked like it had been through the tumble dryer.

"Oh, thank you, Miss Sayoko." The man said as he took the jacket from the maid before slipping it on. A warm smile came to his face as he slid his arms in to the sleeves. "Oh, I love the feeling of clothes fresh from the dryer."

"It is wonderful, isn't it?" Nunnally spoke up, turning her head to look up at the man as he moved towards the door. The move brought an uneasy smile from the man's face as he continued towards the door.

Lelouch was about to give voice to his thoughts of 'good riddance' before the sound of the man snapping his fingers before turning back to face Suzaku.

"Suzaku, I should probably let you know that I'm going to be quite busy over the next few days, so I'll contact you about that drink, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. No problem." The Japanese youth said in reply, flashing him a smile as he nodded his head, with the officer nodding his head in reply before he exited the room.

Lelouch turned around to look at the chessboard as he heard the door hiss shut. His thoughts on this man were getting worse and worse as he talked to him. First, he lambasts his goal for the Black Knights and dared lecture him on his rebellion. Secondly, the man was doing something to his ace's mental state and he didn't like it, not one bit.

Speaking of his ace...

"Where's Kallen gone?" He asked, looking past his friends as he realised that the redhead had disappeared.

In confusion, the group turned around (save for Sayoko who had left the room) to see that, yes, the red-haired teen had disappeared.

"I think she left after Captain Forsyth did, brother." Nunnally said. Lelouch didn't try and question his little sister's intuition. Instead, he simply set himself to start putting away his chess set.

"Oh well." Milly said in annoyance, seeing that there was nothing else to be said and no more opportunities for fun. "It's lunch time, so let's have something to eat. I'm sure Sayoko would be willing to whip something up for us."

"But I brought my own lunch." Shirley said before she was yanked out of the room by Milly who began babbling on about something that Lelouch couldn't fully hear.

"You coming, Lelouch?" Rivalz asked.

"I'll join you in a minute, guys." The teen said, as he carried on putting the pieces in to their slots. "Let me just finish up here first."

"All right then." Rivalz said, an smile obviously on his face before the sound of his hand hitting fabric softly. "Come, Suzaku. Let's get some food."

"Sure, I could eat." The Japanese teen said in agreement before he too left the room. Which left just Lelouch and-

"Lelouch?" Nunnally's sweet voice reached her brother's ears, making him turn around to look at his wheelchair-bound younger sister as she wheeled her chair closer to him.

"What's wrong, Nunnally?" He asked as he knelt down in front of Nunnally's wheelchair. It wasn't wholly necessary, but he enjoyed talking to his sister like an equal.

"It's about the captain." She said, obviously unsure about what to say.

"What about him? Do you not like him?" Lelouch asked, while he mentally asked her 'please say you don't like him.'

"No, it's not that. If Suzaku likes him, then I could like him," Nunnally replied, shaking her head. "It's just..."

"Just what?" Lelouch asked.

"Something seems... 'off' about him."

Now Lelouch was definitely confused. "Off? What do you mean, 'off'?"

In reply Nunnally shrugged. "I don't know, Lelouch. It's not that he's mean or something. It's that he seems... different, is probably the only word I could use."

Leaning back, he put his right elbow against his right knee and his hand against his chin. Nunnally definitely had a gift at discerning whether a person was nice or not, but this was something else entirely.

Standing back up, he looked out of the large window that faced out on to the school grounds, which were now slowly becoming alive with students and a few faculty staff. From the bottom of the window, he watched as the British member of Cornelia's Royal Guard walked across the ground.

'Who is this man?' Lelouch asked himself as he watched the man stop in his tracks.

* * *

A niggling feeling occurred at the back of Ciaran's mind as he stopped walking across the grounds towards the Academy and turned back around to look at the clubhouse.

His eyes scanned the building front, darting from window to window. From his distance, he couldn't see any major details but he could see them vaguely: he was sure he could see Lelouch in the dining room, he could see another empty room, probably a bedroom, inside of which he saw a green-haired girl in a white jacket...

Hold it.

Blinking his eyes, he focused back on the room in question. Nobody was in there now, leaving just an empty room, but he was sure of what he saw: it was a girl in a large white jacket with lime green hair that definitely reached past her hips, and out of all of the hair colours he had seen so far (Ciaran thought to himself 'I really need to talk to someone about that'), there was only one other person he had met had hear that shade of green.

"It couldn't have been..." He said to himself as he used his thumb and index finger on his right hand to wipe his eyes towards the bridge of his nose before opening them and looking at the room again.

Again, there was no-one there.

"Please don't tell me I'm loosing it already." Ciaran said to himself as he turned away, shaking his head before running his hand through his hair.

Through his hair...?

Ciaran let out a growl of frustration as he realised he had left his hat in the clubhouse.

"Captain Forsyth!" Someone called out from behind him, making him turn back to look at the direction of the clubhouse to see Kallen jogging in his direction.

He arced an eyebrow in confusion as he watched girl draw closer to him. He could see that unease was on her face and she had her hands behind her back.

"What's up, Kallen?" Ciaran asked as innocently as he possibly could as the girl drew level with him.

The girl was quiet for a few seconds, twisting her body this way and that slightly before she brought one of her hands up, Ciaran's hat gripped tightly by the bill in her fingers.

"You left this behind." Kallen simply said, not looking at the man's face, obviously uncomfortable in showing kindness to someone she considered an enemy. But it was a kindness all the same and the young man did appreciate it.

Taking the hat from her hand, Ciaran gave it a gentle fluff to get the shape back before putting it on to his head. "Thanks. That must have been hard for you, no?"

Kallen didn't say anything immediately, remaining quiet as she looked off at the distant edge of the academy grounds before she turned her head to look at the captain.

"Why are you doing all of these things?"

"What do you mean?" Ciaran asked, scrunching his eyebrows up in confusion at her question.

"You're working with the Britannians, but you're also trying to help me, with my mother and telling me that I'm not being watched by the government."

The young man just looked at her.

"So, I want to know: why?" She asked, turning her head to look at him fully.

Ciaran just shrugged. "You know my answer, Kallen. I want to help you be something better than what you are right now. Violence only gets you so far in the world."

This earned a sharp glare from the girl. "And yet you're toadying up to the Princess?"

The Briton rolled his eyes at the idea. "I'm not toadying up to anyone. I joined her through my own volition. She also saved my life, and I know that working with her is the only way for me to pay her back."

Kallen's face softened as she took in the man's words. "Zero did the same for me."

Ciaran's eyes opened wide in shock as Kallen continued speaking.

"In Shinjuku, when my group was nearly about to wiped out by Clovis' forces, he was the one who brought us together and helped us win."

"So you feel that you owe him then?" Ciaran asked, already dreading the answer.

"I do." Kallen replied.

The young man just stared at the girl across from him for a few seconds before, letting out a deep sigh, he crossed his arms across his chest. "I see."

The pair stood in silence for a long time, Ciaran pondering what he could say next while Kallen seemed to just be gauging his reaction.

As he shifted his arm across his chest, he felt something shift in his breast-pocket. Opening the pocket, he felt around inside before his fingers brushed against the object in question. Gripping it between his fingers, Ciaran took out the card from his pocket. It didn't look to have gotten wet, and twisting it around in his hands, it didn't look like that maid had made a copy.

Looking from the card to Kallen's face, Ciaran let a small smile come to his face before he gave her the card.

"I know you don't like me being nice to you, but here."

"What's this?" Kallen said as she took the card. She studied it for a few seconds before, turning it over to the information written on the reverse side, her jaw dropped and she looked up at Ciaran in shock.

"The information is right since I went there this morning." Ciaran said, taking advantage of the lull in the conversation. "The prison wing has guards so be sure to bring some form of ID. I'm not sure if you'll be able to just go straight there or will need to ask at the reception or something, so just be careful about anyone asking you questions."

Kallen looked up from the card to look at the man, and Ciaran was sure that he could see tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.

"You might not like me being nice," He said, putting on a thin smile. "But I think that these days, everyone deserves a little bit of happiness. Even if it's from a person you consider an enemy."

The pair fell in to silence as Kallen dipped her head down, small sniffles coming from her. Ciaran would have liked to have shown her some genuine comfort, even a hand on her shoulder, but he didn't want to make her any angrier than she could be. So he simply did the best thing he could.

"I'll see you around, Kallen." He said as he turned around and began walking away from the young girl.

"Ciaran!" The sound of the girl calling out his name made him stop and turn back to look at her. She was no longer close to tears, with an angry look on her face. "I won't go easy on you next time."

Despite himself, Ciaran let a smile come to his face as he turned back around to leave the Academy. "I wouldn't expect anything less, Miss Stadtfeld."

* * *

 **AN: Oh, boy. This was... this was a pain to release on time. Not just from writing it, but also for the fact that I really feel that my life has been going downhill so readily over this past month and a half.**

 **Late in February, I contracted the Noro virus, which is just... awful is probably the nicest way of saying it. I was throwing up every hour during the first night I had it, and I mean REALLY throwing up. I had cold shivers and I also go extremely warm and then the following day, I threw up blood (which turned out to be nothing really major. Just some tearing of the lining of the esophagus) but still it was awful. Plus, factor in to that I have applied for six different retail jobs and they have all come back as (basically) "sorry, but we're looking for someone better" and my job coach can't figure out why that keeps happening since she says that my CV is up to scratch and apparently one of the better written ones she's seen. Factor in AGAIN that some hacked my bank account via my account and used £500 from my account to buy themselves an Ipod or Ipad or something of the like. Ugh... I am moderately certain I've put on weight and in general I've been feeling... just like complete crap.**

 **Anyway, enough about my problems. Here's chapter 20! Yeah, quite a Ciaran and Kallen heavy episode but I feel that their's is a relationship that needs to be expanded upon. Basically, we know the MC is being very nice to her, but obviously to Kallen, who's probably not experienced that sort of kindness much in her life, especially from someone who works for the Britannians, would probably be very, very suspicious of them. So yeah, that's all I can say on this chapter.**

 **Also, some quite good news: this story now has a TvTropes page (seriously, what is going on?). Set up by mrthischamingman2, it's not got much so far, so he needs some help expanding it a bit. I can't post the link, but type in CodeGeass-ABraveNewWorld in the TvTropes search bar. I know the guy would appreciate the help.**

 **And since I'm on that topic, since this story now has a fanon wiki page and a TvTropes page, I have to ask: why do you guys like this story so much?**

 **As per usual: read, review, enjoy, leave me some PM's if you want and help my friend out.**

 **Just so you're aware, next chapter might be a bit late since I'm going on holiday at the start of next month (2nd April to 9th April) for a family holiday, so I won't be able to talk to any of you guys during that time.**

 **(As an aside, does anyone know how I can get away with using the little squiggle for a break instead of the horizontal line FF makes you use? I wanted to try something else with this chapter, but FF's not letting me do it)**


	21. Chapter 21

Inside the personal office of Area 11's Viceroy, the sound of the pen striking the top of the wooden desk melded perfectly with the sound of second hand ticking away on the large clock that set in the room.

To anyone who knew her well, the action was a sure sign that Cornelia was not happy, not happy at all.

Outwardly, she didn't show any major signs of being angry. Her face was set in a neutral expression as she watched the door that was in line with the front of her desk and she sat with her back almost flush against the back of her chair. The only sign that she wasn't happy was a slight narrowing of her eyes.

Her eyes flicked over to the clock set against the wall.

2:16

Her indigo eyes went back to looking at the doors in front of her, almost in an attempt for the object of her anger to appear.

Three measured knocks sounded on the wooden portal.

"Enter!" Cornelia called out, the Second Princess' voice easily filling the large space. Almost immediately following her command, the door opened slightly and the constant form of Lord Guilford appeared before the door, his burgundy uniform sticking out against the deep umber of the door as the Knight bowed at his waist.

"Your Highness, Captain Forsyth has arrived as per-"

"Send him in, then leave us until you called for, Lord Guilford." Cornelia commanded brusquely, interrupting her Knight mid-sentence, making the man jerk back upright as he blanched at her tone before bowing again at the Princess' command.

Turning, Guilford opened the door before silently motioning for the young man in question to enter. Almost immediately, Ciaran appeared, sidling through the open door and past the Knight to stand in the room, before Guilford bowed and took his leave, closing the door behind him, leaving Cornelia and the young Briton alone in the room.

The Princess knew with certainty that Ciaran must feel the same as a mouse trapped in a box with a snake. And she had no intention of letting him feel more at ease, at least not immediately.

"Come here, Mr Forsyth." She said icily, forgoing the young man's rank and name to underpin how serious the situation was.

To his credit, the Briton covered the distance between the door and the desk quickly. He may have been dressed in civilian garb, but as he drew level with Cornelia, he removed his hat before standing to attention in front of her, tucking his hat under his armpit.

"Princess Cornelia." Ciaran said by way of a greeting.

The woman said nothing in reply for a few seconds, simply staring at the man in front of her. It gave Cornelia no small measure of delight to see Ciaran shuffle his feet a bit where he stood, his eyes darting from herself to the wall behind her.

"Tell me, Mr Forsyth," She said after a while, putting an assuredly false genial tone in her voice as she put her pen on to the desk. "I have treated you kindly, ever since you arrived here. Correct?"

Ciaran nodded his head quickly. "Of course, Your Highness."

Pushing back her chair, Cornelia stood up slowly as she continued speaking. "I have given you bed, board and food, along with making sure that no-one outside of my inner-circle finds out about the circumstances of how you arrived here. I would say that that sounds quite magnanimous, no?"

Again, the young man nodded his head quickly as he looked at the Princess. "Oh, most definitely, Your Highness."

"Good, good." Cornelia said as she put her hands behind her back and began walking around the desk to stand beside the man. The look that flashed over Ciaran's face told her that he was unsure of how to respond to her decision to move, either to turn and look at her or to keep facing directly ahead. He chose the latter.

It was the wrong choice.

"Look at me." She commanded simply, forcing the young man to turn his head to look at a decidedly angry Princess. "Along with me sheltering you in this place, I have also given you a rank in the Imperial Armed Forces, a rank which for a person such as yourself would be almost impossible to achieve."

"And I cannot thank you enough for that, Your Highness." Ciaran said, sounding quite scared now as he visibly swallowed after finishing his sentence.

"So you know how much I have invested in you, then?" Cornelia asked.

This time, the young man simply settled on nodding his head.

"Good." Cornelia said, putting more joy in to her voice as she spoke. "So, perhaps you can tell me something..."

Without any warning, the Princess' hands shot up and quickly gripped the sides of Ciaran's head, pulling his head forward until it was more than an inch away from her own face, her indigo eyes burning in to Briton's blue-green eyes.

"WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU!?" She roared, making Ciaran flinch at the volume of her voice at such a close range.

"I-I was in the Settlement, Your Highness!" the young man replied, his eyes snapping back open but not trying to fight the volume of his voice as he panicked. A grimace came to his face as Cornelia began exerting pressure on the sides of his head. "Ah, Cornelia? You're... you're starting to hurt me..."

The older woman didn't pay any attention to his protests as she continued venting at the young man in her grip.

"We are in a war, Ciaran! And while I may have agreed to a ceasefire with that gutless bastard of a worm, I do not doubt that Zero would try something again. And need I remind you that you were already held captive by him once?"

Ciaran let out a few gasps of pain as Cornelia continued squeezing his head, her force pushing him downwards to his knees. "I know! And I'm sorry! So, please, for the love of God, stop!"

Removing her hands to let them fall to her sides, Cornelia watched as the young man dropped to his knees, nearly doubling over before he fell on to his sides as he cradled his sore head. For her part, Cornelia just stared down at the young man as he dealt with the pain.

"Seriously, Ciaran, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" She asked in exasperation after a few seconds.

For several seconds, the young man just rubbed the sides of his head, trying to work some feeling back in to the skin before, rolling on to his back, he looked up at the Princess, a guilty look on his face.

"Sorry." He said simply but wholeheartedly.

A small smile came to Cornelia's face as she looked down at the man lying down on the floor looking up at her before she let out a sigh.

"What were you doing in the Settlement anyway?" She asked, her anger fully abating now as she put her hands on to her hips.

"I went to the hospital. I wanted to check up on the people we rescued at Kitakyushu." Ciaran said simply, prompting Cornelia to arc one of her eyebrows.

"The Elevens?" She asked, which the young man simply replied to with a nod of his head.

"Call it partway curiosity and partway genuine concern." He said, still lying down on the floor. "Plus, I think that Euphemia should be kept abreast of what has been going on with them."

The Second Princess regarded the Briton as she mulled over his reasoning. It was true in no small part it was essentially due to Ciaran that the Elevens were being treated so well, not to exclude Euphie's own naïve kindness on the issue.

"You really are something special, aren't you, Ciaran?"

"What do you mean?" Came the reply.

"You could have easily delegated that duty to a subordinate officer here," Cornelia replied, turning so that she had her back against the desk which she soon leant against. "Or you could have easily sent a request to the hospital for an update on the patients. So why did you decide to go yourself?"

Ciaran, still lying down on the floor, shifted his hands from his head to rest against his chest, almost like a corpse placed in repose. "I... don't think it would be fair to these people, who were put there because of my idea, if I didn't personally check on them."

Looking down at him in silence, Cornelia regarded the young man sceptically before she simply shook her head.

"You're an odd one. You really are."

The young man didn't bother replying, just shrugging his shoulders from his position on the floor, which brought an annoyed look from the Princess.

"Will you please stand up?"

"It's genuinely comfy." Ciaran said in reply before wriggling his back against the fabric, very similar to a cat getting comfy, as a smile came to his face. "Try it."

The Second Princess looked at the man like he was mad, but with a disbelieving shake of her head, she pushed herself off the desk before sinking down to the floor, shifting her coattails out of the way so she could rest properly on the floor.

Her eyes shot open as she felt the carpet, even through her clothes.

"Wow. This is soft." She said in amazement as she ran her hands over the carpet. Clovis had some questionable tastes in design, but he chose his fabric brilliantly.

"Told you so." Ciaran said with a soft smile, which Cornelia returned before it faded in to a look of quiet guilt.

"I'm sorry about squeezing your head like that." She said. "It's just... the whole mess with you being captured at Narita reminds me... reminds me too much of what happened seven years ago."

No matter how hard she wished it hadn't, that horrible day had happened. Her friend and hero, Marianne, lying in the middle of the stairs in her villa at Ares Estate, the woman's back ripped apart by bullets, staining her orange dress a deeper shade of red as her blood pooled on the stairs around her.

Cornelia was snapped out of her melancholy reverie as she felt her hand taken in a firm but comforting grip. Looking down, she found that Ciaran had taken one of her hands in his own, his eyes looking at her in sympathy.

"I'm sorry." He said simply, a look of guilt on his face.

Keeping his hand around hers, Cornelia ran her thumb across the back of Ciaran's hand, feeling the hairs on the back of his hand rub against the fabric of her glove as he continued speaking.

"I don't like the fact that I got captured, but I can't stand the fact that it was because of me that you were forced to remember that." Ciaran squeezed Cornelia's hand tighter to reinforce his point. "I can't stand the idea of making you unhappy."

Cornelia smiled sweetly at the young man, even as his guilty look morphed in to a small smile.

"I mean, if this is what happens when you get upset, it'd definitely be safer for me to keep you happy."

The Princess looked at her companion incredulously before she chuckled at his words, keeping her grip on Ciaran's hand.

Entirely unprompted, she moved her right hand, the hand that the young man was gripping, over to his face and rapped one of her knuckles gently against his nose, similar to what she used to do, and sometimes still did, with Euphemia.

"It's a good thing everyone here likes you, or I'd have you flogged for talking to me like that." Cornelia spoke in jest of course, but for a moment, Ciaran's eyes opened wide in fright before he shook his head and chuckled at her words, even as she made to lift herself off the carpet. "Come on, Ciaran. Stand up."

Letting go of the woman's hand, the young man picked himself up off the ground before dusting himself off. After he was finished, he looked up again to see Cornelia facing him squarely again. This time, instead of an angry look, her eyes showed nothing but kindness.

"I will not apologise for calling you an investment," She said as she straightened out her own coattails, "But I will say this: you've been proving to be a worthwhile investment."

The corners of Ciaran's mouth curled up in a smile before the Princess moved towards the door, intent on calling Guilford in to the room.

Sure enough, on the other side of the portal, stood the bespectacled Knight, standing to attention and beside him stood General Darlton, looking quite annoyed as he gripped the whiteboard next to him.

"I do not appreciate being the one asked to fetch and carry, your Highness." He said brusquely but not in tone that suggested any insolence.

"I understand, Andreas, but just humour me this one time. Please?" Cornelia asked, looking at the large general, before he sighed and nodded his head. "All right then, come on in."

Moving aside, Cornelia held the door open as her Knight and her general entered the room before closing the door behind her. Moving to one side, Darlton pushed the whiteboard against one edge of the carpet while Guilford moved to the Princess' desk before removing a small sized stack of papers, sixteen pages in all, held together by a paper-clip.

Ciaran's essay on counter-insurgency tactics and strategies.

It hadn't been the most voluminous text on military strategy, and admittedly, Ciaran had kind of shirked on a few more details than he should have on several aspects, but those seemed to be mainly matters of politics so that was forgiveable. But there were a few aspects that could easily have done with more elucidation.

"All right then." Cornelia said as she stood before the board, her three officers standing in a semi-circle in front of her, with Darlton in the middle, Guilford to her left and Ciaran to her right. "As you know, Ciaran here is from a different world to us, so that means that warfare in his world has been conducted quite differently to ours. However one problem remains a constant: counter-insurgency."

The two Britannians nodded their heads in understanding while the Briton just crossed his arms over his chest as the Princess spoke.

"As such, this means that there are certain things that we can draw on or even learn from his knowledge. Now, I know that all of us have read his essay, but we know that there are a few more things that could be done with being described in more detail."

At this point, Ciaran had an apologetic look on his face, which prompted the scarred general to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's been a while since I had to write an essay." The young man simply said, drawing a sympathetic chuckle from the people present.

"It's quite all right." Cornelia said with a small smile before she held out her hand for the papers which Guilford promptly handed to her. "Now, all of us grasp the basic concept for the 'air assault' stratagem, especially Darlton himself who has been in several air assault operations himself, but I'm sure that the three of us were markedly surprised by this... 'Fireforce' stratagem."

Again, the two Britannians nodded their heads.

"So, Ciaran, could you please explain this to us in more detail?"

This time, the young man's eyes opened wide in shock, obviously not too keen on the prospect of having to explain the idea to the group. But again, Darlton gave the young man some reassurance.

"Think of it like you're teaching us about the subject. It's not to influence us, just to explain it." The tall man said in a soft tone.

"Indeed." Cornelia said, nodding in agreement as she turned towards the board before turning back, a black board-marker in her hand, which she held out for the young man to take. "So please. Educate us."

Looking at the pen, Ciaran took in a breath before he moved forwards and took the pen before replacing Cornelia in front of the board, while she took his place next to Darlton.

Tapping the lid of the marker, the young man looked at the board for a few seconds before he turned to face the Britannians.

"Okay. So as the Princess said, you are all familiar with the air assault stratagem, where in military forces are taken in to a combat area via helicopter and inserted along with their equipment to take and hold ground or to engage the enemy.

"While this does loosely describe the Fireforce stratagem, the term 'vertical envelopment' is closer to the truth. This is essentially wherein a helicopter-borne group... basically drops from the sky and attacks the enemy."

Ciaran shrugged at his own explanation, which prompted Cornelia to shake her head.

"And the Fireforce?"

"I'm getting to that, your Highness." Ciaran said, finally having found his rhythm in his little presentation. "Firstly, to understand what the Fireforce is, you need to know the situation in which it was created. Now, Rhodesia was a former British colony in Africa which, in the early Nineteen-Sixties, unilaterally declared it's independence from British rule. Having a white minority government, however, did not sit well with the British government which required for the black majority population to be given more representation, among other things. This created a volatile state which several far-Left political groups in the country took advantage of and sought to destabilize and overthrow the government through force.

"Due to the minority rule however, many Western governments imposed sanctions on Rhodesia which prohibited the country from purchasing military equipment, meaning that the Rhodesian armed forces were severely under-equipped and had to rely on what they already had, meaning they had to use several older pattern aircraft."

"So it was a defensive conflict then?" Darlton spoke up, putting a hand to his chin in thought.

"Essentially, sir, yes." Ciaran said, nodding his head. "However, the Rhodesians took the phrase 'the best defence is a good offence' to heart, and this is where the Fireforce comes in.

"Due to their position in Africa and the sanctions put against them, the Rhodesian Defence Force suffered from a severe lack of modern military vehicles, especially helicopters, which put them at a severe disadvantage. Even with a good corps of British officers who had already been in counter-insurgency operations in Malaya and Kenya, along with a more than capable body of infantry backed by foreign fighters who came to join them, they found themselves quickly loosing ground. So in the Seventies, the Rhodies-"

"Rhodies?" Guilford repeated questioningly.

"Slang term for Rhodesians, my lord." The young man replied quickly, before continuing with his speech. "Anyway, in the Seventies, the Rhodies decided that they being timid wasn't getting anywhere. Being defensive wasn't enough. If they wanted to last another year, they had to get aggressive. And that's where the Fireforce comes in."

Almost immediately, the three Britannians instantly stiffened, their attention fully on the young man.

"Now I explained this to Lord Guilford yesterday, so he might be more knowledgeable on the issue, but I'll go in to more detail on how the Rhodies carried out the Fireforce. Basically, they suffered from a similar, if not the same problem as we're facing now; a highly mobile insurgent force with no single base of operations."

"Hold on." Guilford said, interrupting the young man. "Weren't you held in the Black Knights' base?"

Cornelia watched as Ciaran nodded his head. "I was, but I do think that it's safe to assume that that base was only one of many bases used by the Black Knights."

Out of the corner of her eye, the Princess saw Darlton nod his head and she couldn't deny the logic behind it. If the Black Knights had one single base of operations, they'd have probably found it by now. But the fact they were still searching, it meant one of two things: they had either hidden it very well, or they had many satellite camps from which to use.

"As I was saying, the Rhodesians faced a highly mobile insurgent force that operated across a wide area, which, along with their small number of soldiers, severely limited their capability to respond in force. So, using a mix of human intelligence and airborne troops, they decided to take the fight to the insurgents.

"Now, I've given this info to Lord Guilford before but now I can expand on it more. Usually, a number of troops, possibly a platoon or two, would be stationed at an airfield with one helicopter designated as the command chopper and three designated as gunships, which were in turn backed up by a carrier aircraft, a light attack aircraft and a small number of trucks.

"In the field, a number of sticks of infantry, which, as I explained to Lord Guilford, was a four man group of soldiers: three with rifles and one with a general purpose machine gun, would be sent in to the field with a radio and, basically, go looking for the insurgents. When they found any, either through visual contact or direct combat, they'd put in the call to the base for the Fireforce."

"Okay, this we understood, Ciaran." Cornelia said, holding up her hand to quieten the young man. "Can you explain the actual combat side of the operation, please?"

Ciaran opened his mouth for a few moments, his eyes moving as he visibly contemplated what to say before he nodded his head, closing his mouth.

"Right. Give me a moment, please." With that, the young man turned around to face the board. None of the Britannians could see it, but they heard the sound of the pen-lid being popped off before Ciaran began drawing on the board. Looking past his head, Cornelia saw him sketching out a very loose example of a small village or outpost, set up in a circle with a space in the middle, taken up by what looked like a Triple-A battery.

His drawing complete, the young man turned away from the board to look at the Britannians behind him. "Okay, so in this scenario, I've done it so that the Rhodesians have come across an insurgent outpost. I chose this since it's very likely what we'd come across here in Area 11."

"Good choice." Darlton said with a small smile, which Cornelia shared as Ciaran continued talking again.

"Now, when the alarm was sounded for the Fireforce to go in to the air, the command helicopter, known as the K-car, would be the first to arrive on the scene. This would be the key element of the attack since the K-car carried the commander. Usually armed with a twenty-millimetre cannon, the K-car would fly several hundred feet above the designated area in an anti-clockwise spiral, keeping the cannon trained on the target area."

To reinforce this point, Ciaran drew a small helicopter, with a rounded bubble front and a long tail, complete with rotor, above the drawing of the village, along with a circle and arrow to reinforce the fact that, yes, it was flying in an anti-clockwise direction.

"The K-car was the key element of the Fireforce since it would be up to the commander in the aircraft to designate where the G-cars would drop off their infantry, so as to catch any enemies trying to escape and also, very often, it was the K-car that would fire off the first rounds of the assault, usually on high priority targets like any triple-A batters," He crossed out the centre of the map to illustrate his point further. "Thus sending the enemy in to a panic and causing them to 'bombshell'. That is to say, just cut and run."

"So the infantry would be deployed in such a way as to stop the enemy from leaving." Guilford stated simply, nodding his head. "And the... G-cars?"

"The G-cars operated as basic gunships, my lord." Ciaran replied. "Armed with twin thirty-millimetre machine guns, the G-cars would drop off their sticks of infantry in their designated positions before providing mobile fire support, then these sticks would either sit tight and let the enemy come to them in the areas the commander thinks the enemy will try and escape through, or they would advance in to the kill-zones in sweeps, basically walking forward in a line to engage the enemy."

To reinforce this point, the Briton turned to face the board again and began drawing several helicopters, each one in the same shape of the one he drew before but just a bit larger, then some stick figures on the ground, some in areas outside the village-slash-outpost, while others were drawn to be shown attacking the target area directly in the village.

Replacing the cap on the pen, Ciaran turned back to the face the Britannians before moving to the side to let them see a clear view of the diagram.

"Obviously, this is a highly condensed version of the Fireforce, but it would also be the most common example of the Fireforce in operation. Attacks on larger targets would make use of the light-attack aircraft and also para-infantry carried in large transport aircraft."

"I was wondering why you didn't include those in your example." Guilford said, a smile playing at his lips, to which Ciaran simply shrugged.

"It all sounds impressive, relying on a combination of speed, surprise and overwhelming fire-power," Darlton spoke up, looking intently at the board. "But I have to ask: how effective was the Fireforce operation?"

Cornelia smiled at the general's question: trust Darlton to ask the million-pound question.

"Well, in my readings, I couldn't find many sources to show how effective these operations were." Ciaran admitted, tapping the lid of the pen with his palm in thought. "But from what I could surmise, they were incredibly effective."

"How effective?" Cornelia asked, crossing her arms across her chest.

At this, the young man let a smile pass over his lips. "In one operation, Operation Dingo, the Rhodesian Defence Force attacked an insurgent stronghold in a neighbouring country with just a little under two hundred men and over two dozen aircraft. They went up against well over six thousand enemies, maybe more."

The room fell silent as the Britannians digested those numbers. After a few seconds, a snort of derision came from Guilford, obviously disbelieving the whole idea.

"That surely can't be right." Cornelia's Knight said, a disbelieving smile on his face, which quickly fell away as Ciaran shook his head that, no, it was right.

"What were the casualties?" Darlton asked.

The young man took in a small breath through his nose before speaking. "Insurgent casualties were estimated to be... roughly two to four thousand dead, many more wounded. The Rhodesians only suffered eight; six wounded, two dead."

The room fell in to silence again as they processed the information.

"I might have gotten the numbers wrong for the insurgent casualties." Ciaran hurriedly interjected. "I think that they might have been higher, but I do know that the Rhodesians only suffered eight casualties."

That didn't help the disbelief in the room. Cornelia's eyes opened wide, Guilford looked at the young man in shock while Darlton just shook his head as he chuckled, which quickly became a full blown laugh.

"Fucking hell!" The scarred general roared as he laughed out loud, the sound filling the room. "We've never come close to accomplishing that sort of kill-ratio, even with Knightmares."

Ciaran could only shrug sheepishly in reply, obviously quite flustered by the attention before Cornelia spoke up.

"Well now. Looks like this might be something to invest in then." The Princess said mirthfully as she looked at the young man. "But this would mean having to reorganise our forces a bit though."

"Shouldn't be too hard, your Highness." Darlton spoke up, finally coming down from his laughing fit, using his fingers to clear his eyes of tears. "The majority of our regular infantry are trained to assault from gunships and aerial troop carriers anyway, so it shouldn't be too hard for them to learn how to carry out his kind of operation."

Cornelia nodded her head. "That may be so, but our aircraft are not capable of carrying out this sort of operation."

To her side, she saw Guilford and Darlton nod at her words. The current gunships used by Britannia were single crewed aircraft, jet powered with a ventral cannon and rocket pods. While this would be good for attacking any enemy, it would be almost useless for carrying out a Fireforce operation, except maybe as a force multiplier. And the only aircraft capable of transporting large numbers of troops were large VTOL capable planes, more in line with the old planes used to ferry paratroopers than the gunships described by Ciaran. They were slow and easy to target, two things which would mean the failure of this sort of operation.

"So how do we remedy that then?" Ciaran asked, looking at the Princess hopefully, to which Cornelia simply shrugged.

"I don't know, Ciaran." She said simply, trying to think of something, anything, that could help them implement this sort of operation.

"And obviously building a fleet of new helicopters would both be ineffective in cost and just too time consuming." Darlton added, seemingly resigned to the idea he'd never get to see a Fireforce in action.

The sound of a pair of fingers clicking together filled the air as, looking to the side, all in the room saw Guilford hold his hands level with his chin, showing that he had been thinking something over.

"Brainwave, my Lord?" Ciaran asked, arcing an eyebrow at the Knight.

"I think so, Ciaran." The bespectacled Knight said with a sly smile. "Maybe instead of having to create new aircraft, what if we took a page from Ciaran's 'Rhodies'?"

Cornelia looked at the man in confusion, while the young man couldn't help but chuckle at the older man's use of the nickname.

Without saying a word, Guilford moved towards Cornelia's desk and, opening one of the drawers, drew out a small PDA, which made Cornelia arc an eyebrow in confusion.

"What are you doing, Guilford?"

"Looking to give Ciaran a history lesson of my own, your Highness." The Knight said as he walked over to the group, tapping away at the screen in his hands. "Now, there was a time when we did not possess the Knightmare frame and also without the VTOL capable aircraft we now posses, in any shape or form. This meant that we had to rely heavily on armoured personnel carriers, which, I'm sure you know, can be quite limited in where they can move to."

The young man nodded his head. "Obviously."

"Well, one of the companies that produced vehicles for the military, Sikorsky, was tasked with creating a vehicle that was capable of transporting suitable numbers of armed infantry in to hostile combat zones and to also provide mobile fire support. And Sikorsky Euro-Britannia delivered."

Casting her mind back, Cornelia could vaguely recall seeing mention of an aircraft designed by Sikorsky Euro-Britannia being used in several battles against the European Union on the Western front in various archive footage when she was at Colchester Academy, but she'd never paid them much interest.

"What are you getting at, Guilford?" Cornelia asked to which her Knight simply responded with a small smile as he walked over to stand near Ciaran.

"This, your Highness." Was all he said before he pressed a button on the pad in his hands, which brought up an image that filled the screen. Coming closer, Cornelia peered intently at the image on the screen. "The Sikorsky M-24 'Valkyr'."

It was a helicopter, although the shape had more akin to a bird of prey in flight, with a thick, long belly tapering in to a thin tail. It was carried by twin large, five bladed rotor on top and what looked like two spades jutting out from the sides with a fin going out from the bottom of the end of the tail. At the front sat a dual bubble canopy and at the sides, two small wings jutted out at a downwards angle. The helicopter was brimming with weapons; rocket pods, under-slung missiles and a single heavy calibre autocannon underneath the cockpit.

Ciaran's eyes opened wide in recognition. "That's a Hind!"

When the trio of Britannians gave him a confused look in reply, the young man moved towards the Princess, asking for her for the sheet of papers. When she had handed them over, he began flicking through the papers before he took out one of the illustrations he had provided. Looking at the picture, Cornelia saw that it was essentially the same vehicle, except it was a bit more squat and had a single main rotor and a small rotor sitting on top of a fin on the rear of the tail.

"The Mi-24 'Hind' D. It's a Russian built gunship and attack helicopter, built sometime in the Nineteen-Sixties and Seventies." Ciaran said as he walked over with the paper in his hand to stand near Guilford and held up the piece of paper near the PDA. "The one you guys built is essentially the same thing. Although, I'll be honest, your one is a hell of a lot more advanced than ours was."

A surprised look came to Darlton's face at the revelation, while Guilford couldn't help but smile.

"Do we have any in service, though?" Cornelia asked, trying to bring the conversation back on topic.

"From what I remember, no, not in front-line service." Guilford said with shake of his head. "But from what I remember, we do have a small number that were mothballed and put in to storage."

The Princess nodded her head in understanding. It was a common fate for military equipment: once it had been replaced, it would either be shunted back to rear-echelon units or just put in to storage.

"They'd have to either be in the bone-yard in California, or in the Britannian Air Force's main base in Sacramento county." Darlton said, scratching his chin in thought.

"What was their transport capacity?" Cornelia asked.

"Sixteen men, plus equipment." Guilford said as he quickly brought up the specs for the aircraft, to which Cornelia nodded in understanding before turning to look at the young Briton.

"Would that be enough for a Fireforce, Ciaran?" She asked, to which the young man nodded.

"It'd be more than enough, your Highness." Ciaran said after doing a quick calculation in his head before a contemplative look came to his face. "Although... it would mean that operating with one squad of infantry would make it... impractical."

Cornelia nodded her head, but she still gave the young man a sympathetic look while Darlton spoke up.

"As you said, Ciaran," Darlton spoke up. "This sort of operation requires at least two platoons, and you've already be in an operation where you've commanded a platoon yourself, so it shouldn't be too hard for you."

The Princess couldn't help but let a smile play at her lips as she saw Ciaran blush slightly at the general's praise but she could still detect the sense of unease coming from the young man.

"Still unsure about leading your own unit, Ciaran?" She asked, crossing her hands over the other before letting them drop to rest over her waist.

Bringing his hand up to his mouth, the young man made a show of using his thumb and forefinger to smooth out the hairs on his moustache, but it was obvious that he was mulling over the Princess' question. She didn't doubt that Ciaran would want to think on the question, what with how strongly he had reacted to the news of the Purists deaths at Narita.

After a few seconds, Ciaran removed his hand from his mouth and, with a determined look, looked at Cornelia and said, "I'll do it."

To say that the Second Princess was shocked by his declaration was bit of a understatement. "That was fast."

A shrug came as the reply. "I put forward this idea, so it stands to reason that I be the one who leads the unit who carries it out. Then if we foul up, I'll be the one to take the blame."

"That's a very 'class half empty' way to look at it, Ciaran." Guilford said, looking skeptically at the young man, while Darlton looked a little worried.

Again, Ciaran just shrugged. "It's who I am, my Lord."

This time it was Cornelia's turn to shrug. "Fair enough. But it does mean that you will need a good second in command." Turning her head, she looked at General Darlton. "Do you have any recommendations, Darlton?"

"Actually, Princess," The young man spoke up, preempting the general's words. "I already have an idea for a couple of people who I could have as my second."

"Impressive." Cornelia said. "All right then. I guess that you practically have everything under control then."

Turning around, the purple-haired princess turned back to move towards her desk.

"As you know, we won't force you to do something you don't want to do," Cornelia turned back to face the young man as she reached her chair. "But, I do expect you to stick to this unit, no matter what happens. Understand?"

To her surprise, Cornelia watched as Ciaran rolled his eyes before he sarcastically replied. "Yes, mum."

Eyes open wide, the Princess just stared at the young man, taking in what he had just said. His face didn't betray any emotion for a few seconds, until a small smile cracked on his face.

"Cheeky bugger," Cornelia said quietly to her herself as a smile came to her face, shaking her head in exasperation. So this was his payback. No matter. "Very well then, Ciaran. Might I suggest you get changed in to your uniform, Guilford will show you to your new office and, if you haven't already done so, to call these people you have in mind."

"Very well, your Highness." Ciaran said, bowing his head. "By your leave?"

Cornelia nodded her head to indicate that the pair could leave the room. She watched the two walk towards the door, the young man holding the door open for her Knight to exit her office, before the Princess called out. "Wait a moment, Ciaran!"

The young man turned around, confusion on his face.

"I think you forgot something." Cornelia said, pointing her finger at the floor in front of her desk where, she knew with certainty, lay Ciaran's hat.

The young man looked at the hat, then the seated Princess, then back to the hat on the floor. Again, he rolled his eyes before walking the distance between the door and the desk, keeping his eyes fixed on Cornelia. When he reached the desk, giving Cornelia a hard stare, he bent over and picked up the hat.

As she watched him pull himself back to his full height, Cornelia waited until he was level with her face until she flashed him a cocky smile. "Always pick up after yourself, Ciaran."

The young man's eyes opened wide at the Princess' words, even more so as Cornelia's smile became wider, enough to show the top row of teeth. Without saying a word, the young man put his hat back on to his head before turning and beating a quick retreat to the door and a very confused looking Guilford.

After the pair had left the room, shortly followed by the general, all bowing as they left the room, the purple-haired princess leant back in her chair, the smile never leaving her face as she shook her head.

"This is getting more and more interesting." Cornelia said to herself, before she put her head down and went back to work, the sound of the ticking clock filling the air once again.

* * *

Sitting at his own personal desk in his own personal office, Ciaran tried his best to look like he actually belonged in one. Dressed in his Royal Guard uniform, he would have cut quite an impressive figure. If it wasn't for the fact he was leaning against the desk top, his chin resting on top of his crossed arms as he tried balancing a pen between his top lip and his nose.

It was partially his own fault he was bored.

His assignment to create his own military unit was admittedly off to a rocky start. After having changed out of his civilian clothes and after being escorted to his office by Guilford, he had sent messages to both Lady Villetta and Lord Jeremiah asking for them to come see him about the project. It only felt right that the last two remaining Purists, the only two survivors from his time as a commander should be brought in. Even if they just heard his plan, that was all right with him.

But neither of them had gotten back to him about when they would arrive. Or even if they would come at all.

Letting the pen fall from his lip to clatter on to the desk top, Ciaran leant back in his chair as he pushed himself away from the furniture to spin around and look out of the large window behind him. The view from his part of the Viceroy's Palace was quite beautiful, giving him a lovely view of Mount Fuji, even if half of the mountain had been replaced by the dark grey slaps of industry.

Which he only saw for the briefest of seconds as he overestimated the strength used to spin the chair as he found himself spinning back around to face the front of the desk, stopping himself from spinning again by catching on to the desk.

The young man quickly looked around the room, making sure that no-one had come in and seen him do such a childish thing, fun though it was.

"Eh, why not?" Ciaran said to himself when he was sure the coast was clear. Pushing his chair back further from the desk, he steadied himself before using his feet to propel himself in a spin.

If he had better things to do, like filling out paper work, Ciaran would definitely do them. But regretfully, he didn't have anything else to do. So here he was, spinning in his chair like a bored teenager.

He was on his sixth revolution when the door to the office opened, prompting him to stop by putting his feet down on to the floor. Unfortunately, he had underestimated the spin, which resulted in him whacking the side of his left knee against the inside of the desk.

"Oh, son of a bitch!" Ciaran hissed out as he nearly doubled over from the pain, his head coming down to rest against the surface top while his hands shot down to grab his pained knee.

A polite cough from above him made him lift his head up to check who had entered.

Sure enough, there stood Margrave Jeremiah, dressed in a lilac double breasted jacket and trousers of the same colour underneath a black cloak with gold trim worn over his left shoulder, and Lady Villetta, dressed in a dark purple, sleeveless tailcoat worn over a black dress, coupled with a pair of long purple gloves that reached up to her biceps and a pair of a long, thigh high black stockings. The outfit was completed by a large black, fur-trimmed cloak worn over her right shoulder. The only unifying element of their outfits was a small red wing device worn on the lapel of their jackets.

The looks on their faces were as different as their outfits. Jeremiah had a look on his face that basically said 'what is this man doing?' while Villetta's face showed that she was unsure whether she should laugh or just shake her head at the Briton's antics.

"Are we interrupting your fun, Captain?" Jeremiah said, looking at Ciaran as he pushed himself to stand up.

"Boredom is a hell of a thing, my lord." The young man said as he stood up, thankful that the hit to his knee was not nearly as painful as the original impact made it out to be. "Thank you both for coming. Please, take a seat."

Ciaran motioned to the two chairs that sat in front of his desk, which the two nobles promptly sat down on, shifting their large cloaks so they could sit on them.

"We're sorry we didn't reply to your message, Captain." Villetta said as the young man took his place on his own chair. "We were in the hospital visiting Jonathan. Lord Bruckveld."

Ciaran nodded at Villetta using the man's last name, although no matter how hard he wracked his brain, he couldn't put a face to the name. "How is he doing"

"He'll live." Jeremiah said flatly, cutting in. "But they had to amputate his right arm below the elbow. So he's going home."

The young man nodded his head solemnly. "Better than loosing his life, I say. At least he'll be with his family."

The two nobles nodded their heads, before Jeremiah crossed his legs before fixing Ciaran with a stare. "But I doubt that you merely called us here to talk about our injured comrade. Why are we here, Ciaran?"

The Briton let out a small sigh as he closed his eyes. He had prepared himself beforehand for this meeting and he was not going let a little case of stage fright get the better of him.

"As you both know, being given command of your Purist faction at Nagano then at Narita was my first time as a commander. I'm not sure what we can call the result of the former, but I think we can all agree that the latter was nowhere near a success, to put it nicely-"

"Nicely?" Jeremiah roared, slamming his foot down on to the floor as he leaned closer, his face a visage of rage. "Three people survived out of eight, one of whom has now lost a limb and being sent home. It was a bloody disaster!"

Putting his hands together, almost as if he was praying, Ciaran put his elbows on the top of his desk before resting his head against his hands as Jeremiah leant back in his chair, his rage quickly subsiding.

"Yes, I am aware of the numbers, my lord. And as the commander of the unit during that battle, the blame falls on me and me alone." He moved his hands to rest against the top of the desk, looking at both of them. "But, the Viceroy, in her infinite wisdom, has decided to give me a second chance, and by extension, give both of you a second chance. And that's why you're here."

Jeremiah and Villetta looked at each other in confusion before leaning forward in their seats.

"What do you mean?" The silver-haired noblewoman asked.

A broad smile crept across Ciaran's lips.

"Reinforcement from Britannia are coming to shore up our numbers, but that means we're still short staffed. And since we're not fighting a conventional war, the Viceroy has agreed to let me try... something unconventional to help."

This certainly had the two Britannians hooked now, as he could see that he had their full attention.

"Britannia is fighting a war of counter insurgency, but we're going about it as a conventional war. We're using sledgehammers when we should be using scalpels, for lack of a better phrasing. The unit I'm hoping to start up will be that scalpel."

"So that's why we're here." Villetta said, looking at the young man in front of her, to which he nodded.

"I don't have enough experience to run this sort of unit by myself, I will freely admit that. So I need help. Your help specifically."

The teal-haired nobleman leaned back in his chair as he steepled his fingers, a sly smile on his face.

"I figured as much." Jeremiah said, to which Ciaran shrugged.

"I'm young and only had the barest experience, but I'm not stupid." He said with a thin smile. "I know what I can do with this new unit, but I need veteran officers to help me. That's why I asked for you two to help me."

Ciaran didn't want to sound like he was begging for their help, but from the look on Jeremiah's face, he was sure that the nobleman was already thinking that.

He opened his mouth to speak but Jeremiah interrupted him.

"As much as it would delight me to see what you have in mind for this new 'unconventional unit', Ciaran, I'm afraid I must decline."

That was one of the things Ciaran expected to hear, but looking at Villetta's shocked face, he saw that it was not something she expected to hear.

Seeing his comrades confusion, Jeremiah's expression softened. "After Narita, I was contacted by members of Prince Schneizel's special research team. They asked me if I wanted to take part in a new research opportunity. Can't say what I'm afraid. Hush hush and all that." The nobleman tapped his nose conspiratorially, before lacing his fingers then resting them on his knee. "So I'm out."

' _One down._ ' Ciaran thought to himself before turning to look at Villetta. "So I guess... that just leaves you, Lady Villetta. Interested?"

Confusion was on the noblewoman's face as she flitted her eyes between Ciaran and Jeremiah, before she let out a deep sigh and turned to face the young man fully.

"Before I give my answer, can you tell me what the unit's role will be?"

"Fair enough." Ciaran said, nodding his head at the question. "We'll be a small scale unit, probably no larger than a platoon, no smaller than a battalion. We won't be using Knightmares in our operations too, at least not straight away, but we will be making use of ground assaults on foot or from aerial transports. The unit will hit fast and hit hard, with maximum efficiency."

"Doesn't really sound like a scalpel to me." Jeremiah said with a small chuckle.

"I'm not finished yet, my lord." The young man responded with a cheeky smile. "We'll identify enemy strong-points using local intel sources or from on-site reconnaissance teams, while also operating in smaller fire teams than the standard, both when on foot and in Knightmares."

Leaning back in his chair, Ciaran looked at Villetta with a slightly guilty look.

"At least, that's what I'm hoping for. The Viceroy has still yet to tell me her decision on my proposal, and that's one of the reason why I've asked you here. She says that I need at least one other officer on my side "

Villetta nodded her head as she took in the information, obviously mulling over her answer before she responded.

"Ah, why not?" She finally said, swatting her palms against the armrests of her chair. "I'm sure as hell not being sent home. I'm in."

Ciaran let a smile come to his face as he heard the conviction in Villetta's voice. "Brilliant. But before I fully conclude his meeting, I need to ask a character reference. Lord Jeremiah?"

The rest of this meeting was Ciaran purely just having fun with the situation, and the nobleman seemed to know it as he gave the young man a wide smile before shaking his head.

"Lady Villetta is model soldier, a very capable officer and a loyal friend." The nobleman shot his companion a soft look, which made her smile. "I know for a fact that she'll be a brilliant addition to your unit."

Ciaran stood up, prompting the two nobles to stand up as well. "That's all I needed to hear. Thank you, to the both of you, for coming." Moving to walk around the desk, Ciaran moved to stand near the two nobles. "Lady Villetta, I will need you to stay behind so I can give you the full details on my plan before we go meet with the Viceroy."

Villetta nodded her head at the request, a gesture which Jeremiah copied, before she turned to look at the tall nobleman. On her face, a look of remorse on her face as she spoke to the turquoise-haired man.

"Well... I guess this is it then." She said sorrowfully. "It's been a pleasure working with you, Lord Jeremiah."

The silver-haired woman's attention was drawn as Jeremiah lifted his right hand up, holding it out in front of him. Looking at the older man's face, Ciaran saw a small but earnest smile come to his lips.

"It's been more than a pleasure, Lady Villetta Nu." The nobleman responded, as Villetta took the offered hand. Then, to both Ciaran's and Villetta's surprise, Jeremiah turned her hand over before bending down to press his lips to her knuckles,earning a blush from the russet-skinned noblewoman. Jeremiah simple smiled as he stood back up. "I wish you the best of luck."

Releasing the noblewoman's hand, the noble turned to look at the young man, moving his arm down to his side. "Ciaran, I wish you good luck too. You may be British, but you are a member of the Royal Guard, so the Viceroy must see something in you. I just pray that her trust in you isn't misplaced."

Of all the things he had expected to hear, that certainly wasn't one of them.

"Umm... thank you, my Lord."

As a reply, Jeremiah bowed before, turning on his heel with all the skill of a Grenadier Guard, he walked out of the room, opening the door and shutting it quietly behind him. This left Ciaran and Villetta alone in the room in silence.

"I still have no idea what to make of that man." Ciaran admitted after a few moments as he leant backwards to lean against the front edge of his desk.

Turning her head to look at him, Villetta gave him a wry smile. "Ciaran, I have known that man for nearly seven years, and he still surprises me. It was only this year I found out he had a sister."

Ciaran's head snapped round to look at his companion before nodding his head in understanding. "Fair enough."

Pushing himself forward on to his feet, Ciaran slapped his hands against his legs. "Right then. Let's get you caught up to speed with what I'm planning on doing."

Villetta nodded as she moved to sit back down on her seat, crossing her legs again. "Understood."

Standing behind his desk, Ciaran opened up a drawer and pulled out a few pieces of paper which he placed on to the desk between the two of them.

After having shown Darlton and Guilford the essay, the general had advised him to write up a different copy of the essay, not as though he was talking about a historical fact, but as a hypothetical idea. Which was a lot harder than it was. After showing the fictionalized copy to the general and Cornelia's Knight, which prompted a few pointers from Darlton, they both agreed that it was more than passable as far as military proposals went.

This was the first time Villetta would have seen the papers, but it didn't surprise Ciaran that she took in the information with an appraising eye as she leaned in to look at papers more closely.

"Small unit tactics?" The silver-haired noblewoman finally asked, looking up at the young Briton from the papers.

"Bingo." Ciaran said simply as he sat down in his own desk. "You see, a certain sized unit can only act in a particular fashion, as long as the situation is suited for a unit that size, in this case the eight man section. But-"

"The purpose of this action," Villetta interrupted him as she picked up a paper showing a simple (and admittedly crude) example of a Fireforce in action. "Is to dictate the flow of the battlefield, in our favour."

"Got it one." Ciaran said in amazement, leaning back in his chair. This woman was good. "Zero's been getting the drop on us in Area 11 because he always manages to alter and control the flow of an engagement."

Leaning forward, he took the paper from her hand and held it vertically for her to see his face and the diagram.

"This unit's new role, _our_ new role, is to change the flow of combat in this country to our favour." Ciaran continued, looking at Villetta with a steely gaze. "We're going to be hitting this bastard before he realizes what hits him."

Setting the paper down, the young man put his hands together, interlacing his fingers.

"Well, that's the hope at least. Since you'll be my Number Two, I'll need you to go through all of these and learn what's needed for the role."

Villetta nodded as she looked up from the papers. "How long will I get?"

Ciaran shrugged. "Not sure. Either General Darlton or the Viceroy herself will come and inform us personally, I know that much at least."

Again, the noblewoman nodded her head as she continued reading through the papers in her hands. While she was doing that, Ciaran moved to stand in front of the large window looking out on to Mount Fuji, contemplating what new direction his life would take him.

"You missed the 'E' in 'doctrine'." Villetta said behind him.

He did not feel that it was off to the best of starts.

* * *

To Dame Villetta Nu, this day was certainly going in a direction that she did not anticipate it going, especially not after the débâcle that was Narita.

By nature, Britannians did not look kindly on someone cocking up in any large capacity. There were always suspicions of the Emperor having the ministers, generals, hell, even his own children, who displeased him greatly to secretly wind up in a meeting with the executioners blade.

But to Villetta, meeting with the executioners blade would have been a kindness. For her, the worst fate that failure could bring to her wasn't death. It was to die in disgrace. To die not as a Knight of Britannia, but as a simple nobody, another person among the millions of souls who inhabited the Empire.

She could have expected that. To be stripped of her Knightmare, her military rank and virtually all the privileges given to her rank, and then either sent home to live out the rest of her days with her family in the Homeland or, if she was unlucky, to be left here in Area 11.

So, to be put it bluntly, it had certainly confused her to hear the message from Captain Forsyth... Ciaran, on her phone saying that he wanted to see herself and Lord Jeremiah in the Viceroy's Palace about a new military unit he was creating and that he wanted both of them to be a part of it.

It might have been a bit disheartening to her to see Jeremiah refuse the position, and even more surprising to find that he had been head-hunted by Prince Schneizel for a something secret, but in the end, her desire to strive for something greater kept her going.

And so, Villetta Nu, the eldest daughter of a winemaker with heritage leading back to the old Spanish nobility, found herself standing in the Viceroy's office at attention, her eyes fixed on a point above the back of Viceroy's Cornelia chair. She couldn't see if explicitly but she could feel the Second Princess' eyes boring in to her. To her side, Ciaran, still dressed in his Royal Guard uniform, stood at attention beside her, while General Darlton and Lord Guilford flanked the Princess.

"Well, Dame Nu," The Princess said after simply staring at the tawny-skinned noblewoman for a few uncomfortable seconds. "It certainly is a surprise to see that you're the person that Captain Forsyth suggested to be his second."

The Princess shifted her head to the side to shoot a pointed glance at the young man beside Villetta who, to his credit, simply continued staring ahead at the wall.

"You may stand easy." Cornelia commanded, not taking her eyes off the two officers in front of her. Without a word, both Villetta and Ciaran shifted their legs to move parallel to their shoulders and put their hands behind their backs at the base of their spines.

"Very well. Let's get this other with." The Second Princess said, lacing her fingers together as she rested her arms against the top of her desk. "Dame Nu, has Captain Forsyth briefed you on what this new unit will be about and what role it will play in our fight against Zero?"

Villetta nodded her head, shifting her eyes down to look at the Viceroy while keeping her head looking straight forward. "Yes, your Highness. He's told me about the new vertical envelopment doctrine of the air assault he has hypothesised, utilizing helicopter borne infantry operating in smaller units rather than the larger eight man sections we use in conventional assaults."

The silver-haired noblewoman watched as the Princess nodded her head as Villetta gave her answer. Either in agreement or simply just acknowledgement of that fact she had been told.

"Good, good." The Viceroy said after a few seconds. "Since the good captain has told you everything you need to know about the new unit, then you'll know that the operations we plan to carry out using Captain Forsyth's plans will require a huge degree of cooperation between himself, you and the soldiers on the ground. Correct?"

"Yes, your Highness." Villetta simple said, nodding her head once.

Cornelia nodded her head again at the noblewoman's answer. "Good. Now, I don't think I need to tell you that it was certainly a surprise that you were the one Captain Forsyth wanted as his second."

Surprised wasn't the word Villetta would use to describe the reaction she saw on the Viceroy's face. The reaction she saw was the same look one would give a family cat if they brought in a large, mutilated rat, then find out it was still alive.

"However," The Princess continued. "You have a more than sufficient, almost exemplary, service record with the Ninety-Fifth Imperial Rifles and the Seventeenth Royal Panzer Infantry, so I can see why the captain would choose you as his second."

The silver-haired noblewoman fought hard against the act, but just barely managed to smile at the praise. Which quickly faded as Princess Cornelia fixed her with a solid glare.

"I'm sure that you're aware what would normally happen to such a person in your position, especially after having their unit practically annihilated in combat? Especially one as... _prestigious_ as yours?"

Villetta couldn't help but wince at the venom in the Viceroy's voice as she said 'prestigious'. It was no secret that the Purists were looked down upon with scorn by many of the other nobles in Area 11, and she didn't doubt the Empire at large, for not only allowing Prince Clovis to be murdered but also to let the real killer, Zero, escape.

Deciding to play it safe, Villetta simply nodded her head before responding with, "Yes, your Highness."

Again, Cornelia nodded her head. "Good. So you know how much you owe the captain for giving you this opportunity then."

"And I cannot thank him enough, your Highness." Villetta said, turning her head to look at the young man beside her with a small smile on her face. In reply, Ciaran turned his head and shot her a smile and a nod of his own before both turned back to look at the Viceroy with a straight face. The purple-haired woman simply stared at the two officers.

"He may have decided that you were worth giving a second chance to, but I have not." She simply said. "Consider this a warning: if I hear any negative reports from Captain Forsyth or any other officers, then you're out. Is that understood?"

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Villetta nodded her head once again. "Yes, your Highness."

For several seconds, Cornelia simply looked the silver-haired noblewoman in the face before she leant back in her chair to rest fully against it.

"Dismissed."

At the command, the two officers stamped their feet together as they stood attention before, bowing at the waist, they both replied, "Yes, you Highness."

After exiting the room, the young captain holding the door open for her, Villetta waited outside in the hallway until Ciaran had closed the large wooden doors behind him, leaving them both alone outside. When she was certain that they were alone in the area, she leant against the closest part of the wall and she slumped down a bit, letting out the breath that she didn't know she had been holding in.

"That. Was terrifying." She simply said, looking to her side at the young Briton as he ran his hand through his hear.

"Yeah," Ciaran said, an unsure smile on his face. "That... that was not how I imagined it going down at all."

Villetta could only nod her head. She had heard about the temper that the Second Princess possessed, but to see it manifest in such a cold manner was more terrifying than seeing her actually angry.

Taking a breath, the noblewoman pushed herself off the wall to stand up to her full height, drawing her eye to with the young man.

"So what now?" She asked, looking at Ciaran expectantly. It didn't fill her with much confidence when he gave a non-committal shrug in reply.

"I think it best we head back to my office." He said, turning around to begin the trek to the office in question. "I'm sure if either Guilford or Darlton need us, they'll come to us."

Villetta didn't say anything for a short while as she watched the young man who was, once again, her commanding officer walk in the direction of his office before she decided to follow him, speeding up her steps to catch up with him.

Matching her speed with his, Villetta and Ciaran walked down the hall in silence, the young man putting his hands behind his back as he walked while the noblewoman just let her arms swing at her sides. Looking out of the corner of her eye, Villetta saw that her walking partner was looking at her with a soft smile on his face.

"Don't let Cornelia get to you." The young man said amicably. "I know that she knows your a good soldier, otherwise she wouldn't have agreed to let you be my second."

The noblewoman's eyes opened at the casualness that the young man addressed the Viceroy. Who was this Briton to the Second Princess to call her by her first name so nonchalantly?

But it did help her mood somewhat. Everything of what the Princess said to her reminded her so much of the attitude that her old sergeant major, always giving threats that terrified her deeply but at the same time inspired her to continue.

She watched Ciaran as he continued his speech. "I mean, for all the problems the Purists caused, none of them were directly caused by you, so why should you take the blame? You followed my orders at Nagano and Narita practically to the letter, even though... even though those people would have died anyway."

The smile dropped from the young man's face at the last sentence, morphing in to a look of dejection that she knew was directed at himself.

Reaching her hand over, Villetta put a hand on to his shoulder, making Ciaran turn his head to look at her. As he looked at her, she shot him a reassuring smile.

"As the Great Bard said, 'The fewer men, the greater share of honour'." She said, remembering the Saint Crispin's Day speech from Henry V.

It was a speech that been ingrained on her from childhood. Britannia idolized Shakespeare as the last great British bard before the invasion of the Motherland, and for the military of Britannia, that speech was meant to encompass everything they should be: brave in the face of the enemy, regardless of their station, and with only the thought of victory in their hearts at all times, to ignore the naysayers at home and to strive to win.

The small sound of the young man scoffing at her words made her furrow her brows at him as he brought his head back up as Ciaran stood straight again. "More honour, eh? If you say so."

Villetta narrowed her eyes as she looked at the young man. It had been ingrained on practically all Britannian children that the British people, the one's who lived in the British Isles after Napoleon's conquest and now formed the population of modern Britain, had no holding on the concept or value of honour. But out of respect for the young man who had fought alongside her twice before, she kept her mouth shut.

The pair continued in silence until they reached the captain's office. Holding the open for her, Ciaran motioned for Villetta to enter, to which she respectfully inclined her head before stepping in to the office.

"Care for a drink?" The young man asked, shutting the door behind him before turning to look at the noblewoman as she sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"I could drink." She said, shrugging her shoulders as Ciaran walked from the door to stand behind his desk and moved to his phone. "Just a tea, if you please."

The young man nodded his head as he lifted the handset to his head and punched in the short sequence of numbers to call for one of the Palace's maids to bring up their drinks: a large cola and a pot of tea. After placing his order, Villetta watched the young man sit down in his chair.

"While we wait," The young Briton began as he leaned forward in his chair, looking at the noblewoman seated across from him. "Is there anything you want to ask me about our new unit?"

Thinking back on it quickly, Villetta cast her mind over all the things she had been told: the tactics that would be used on the ground, her position as the 'eye in the sky' in the K-car along with her responsibilities in that position among other things. She understood it all, and was honestly hoping to put what she had been told in to practice.

So she simply shook her head 'no'.

"Good." Ciaran said, nodding his head. "Because I have a question for you: how the hell do I address you now?"

Villetta could only blink in confusion as her eyes opened wide at the question.

"Pardon?" Was all she could say after her mouth opened and closed several times in confusion.

"Well it's just that you'll be my superior in terms of social rank," Ciaran pointed at Villetta before pointing at himself. "But I'll be your military superior. So... how do I address you?"

The noblewoman looked at the young man in front of her like he was mad for a few seconds before she realised that he was right. How would he address her? It was obvious that as a Knight of Britannia, she did have a higher societal ranking over Ciaran, even if he was a captain in Cornelia's Royal Guard. But since she would be his second in command, a first-lieutenant to his captain, he would definitely be her superior in almost every sense of the word.

Putting her elbow against the armrest of her chair, Villetta put her chin in to the upturned palm of her hand as she mulled the answer over.

The sound of the door opening registered to her, along with the sound of someone wheeling in a trolley, possibly a maid, but she didn't pay it any real attention. Not until the maid spoke though.

"Sir, General Darlton is here too," The maid said politely. "Shall I send him in?"

"Oh!" The young captain said out loud, making Villetta flinch at the sound as the Briton stood up. "Of course, bring him in."

Turning in her seat to face the door, the noblewoman watched as the maid, a pale-skinned, brown-haired girl dressed in a maid's outfit wheeled in a tray carrying their drinks while behind her, the imposing form of General Darlton walked in behind her, a stack of files clutched in one of his hands.

None of the officers spoke as the maid wheeled the try next to the desk before setting their drinks next to them, a pint glass of cola was set on a coaster next to the captain while Villetta's tea was placed in front of her.

Her current job done, the maid retreated to stand next to the trolley, her hands clasped demurely in front of her. "Will there be anything, sir?"

"Do you want anything, general?" The captain asked.

"No, I'm fine." Came the reply.

"That will be all, thank you." The Briton said to the maid who, after curtseying, wheeled the trolley out of the room before shutting the door behind her.

Standing up from her chair, Villetta watched as Darlton crossed the space from the door to stand near the pair. The woman was surprised at the change in the general's appearance: where before his face was an impassive scowl, now a broad smile was on the man's face.

"I trust that the Viceroy didn't scare you two too much?" Darlton asked, beaming at both of the officers.

"Not gonna lie, sir, it was quite terrifying." Ciaran replied, grimacing slightly before taking a sip from his drink.

The older man simply nodded in reply before he put the files that he held in his hands on to the desktop before patting them gently.

"Well, I have two bits of good news, some bad news and a choice. Which do you want first?" The general said, a smile still on his face as he looked between Villetta and Ciaran. In return, both of the younger officers just looked at each other, before Ciaran held up a hand for the noblewoman to speak.

"We'll take the good news first, general." Villetta said to the general, who nodded his head in reply.

"Right then. I've taken the liberty of choosing which unit will be assigned to your new Fireforce," Darlton said, taking out one of the binders in his hands and handing it to Ciaran. "I thought that it'd be best that we give you a unit that you've worked with before. Although I can see that you've already thought of that with choosing Dame Villetta here."

She tried to resist it, but the noblewoman couldn't help the blush that came to her face at the general's words. Darlton smiled at her before he continued speaking.

"So, I managed to select a unit that I'm sure you're familiar with and I think you'd get on well with."

Villetta looked in confusion at the general before turning to look at Ciaran as he leafed through the file in his hands. She couldn't help but arc an eyebrow at the smile that came to his face before he laughed.

"Sergeant-Major Reynolds, sir?" The young man said in disbelief, looking up at the scarred general from the file in his hands.

"Indeed. Although technically, it's Alpha-company of the 200th Imperial Princess' Pathfinders, Ciaran." Darlton replied with a small smile. "They're predominantly a recon battalion, but they're already trained to operate in small man units along with air assault, so I think they're the best fit for this unit of ours."

Villetta nodded her head along with the young man at the logic, but she was still unsure who NCO in question was. "Who's sergeant-major Reynolds, sir?"

"Reynolds served under my command at Kitakyushu." Ciaran replied. "He's a good man."

She'd never met the man before so the noblewoman would have to take the captain's word for it.

"So what's the second bit of good news, general?" The young man asked, putting the folder down on to the desktop.

At this, General Darlton smiled broadly, twisting the scar on his face. "We've got the Valkyrs."

"Fucking ay!" Ciaran called out.

"We'll be using the Valkyrs?" Villetta asked, confused but excited by the idea. She'd seen footage of the large attack gunships in action in the battles against the European Union in Euro-Britannia, but they had been withdrawn from service before the invasion of Area 11 so she'd never get to see one in action for herself.

"Indeed we are, Dame Villetta." The general said with a nod of his head. "Lord Guilford put the request in to BAF Sacramento if they had any in the bone-yard near there, and it turns out they have a fleet of five held in storage. Word is that they're still being looked after and should be serviceable."

"Brilliant." Ciaran said before the smile on his face faded. "So what's the bad news?"

"They can't directly ship the vehicles to us." Darlton said with a shrug. "So that means that all of us will have to go to the Homeland to get them to hand them over to us."

"Can't the Princess just order them to hand them over?" Villetta asked, although she had a feeling that she already knew the answer. Which was proven as Darlton shook his head.

"No dice. Since the Princess is keeping this unit under wraps, and she won't give an explanation as to why she wants them, then they can't send the Valkyrs over."

"Fuck." The young captain said dejectedly. "So what does that mean?"

A smile still on his face, general Darlton replied by holding up the rest of the binders in his hands before letting them fall on to the desk top. "Guilford typed them out. They're basically saying that we're requisitioning the Valkyrs to be brought to Area 11 as heavy lift gear while the weapons fitted to them are be used for as auxiliary weapons for Knightmares."

Villetta only blinked in confusion at the general as he finished speaking. She had no idea how newly created special operations units operated, but she didn't envision them having to falsify equipment orders to get their hands on the equipment.

"Please tell me the choice you gave before is to have you fill these forms out?" Ciaran asked hopefully, pointing at the files on his desk. In return, Darlton merely shot him a deadpan look.

"Nice try, lad." The general replied. "You and Dame Villetta will have to sign these in triplicate. There's five folders, one for each aircraft, but each M-24 has seven weapons, if we ignore the crew serviced weapons."

"Oh, balls." Villetta chuckled softly at the groan of exasperation from the young man, although it quickly faded away as she did the maths. Five vehicles, with seven hard-point weapons, with a form for each that had to be filled out in triplicate.

Forty pages.

"Oh, balls." The tawny-skinned noblewoman echoed the sentiment as she slumped in her chair. All the while, Darlton merely looked at them with an apologetic look on his face.

"Yeah. Sorry."

Letting out a sigh, Ciaran pulled back his chair and sat down heavily in it, obviously unhappy about having to do all the paperwork. "General, please tell me that your choice is for something nice."

"It's really only about the uniforms," Darlton said with a shrug. "You've got a choice of beret colours for your new unit; either maroon, dark blue or rifle green."

"I don't think that's something we need to figure out right now, sir." The young man said in reply as he pulled the stack of binders closer towards him and took out one of the forms before he began looking for a pen on his desk. "We can sort that out when we get everything squared away."

Villetta looked at the captain in surprise as he gripped a pen in his right hand and began writing his signature on the first sheet of paper. It surprised how quickly he could switch from being a genial and friendly person to such a business-like persona.

Darlton merely nodded his head. "All right then. I'll see you two later."

As the tall general turned to leave, Villetta suddenly remembered her earlier conversation with Ciaran.

"General, a moment!" She called out, turning in her chair to look at the taller man, making him stop and turn to look at her. Behind her, the noblewoman knew that Ciaran was looking at her. "Help us with something?"

"What's wrong?" Darlton asked, staying where he was but crossing his arms over his chest.

"Me and Ciaran have a bit of a dilemma. I'm his superior in terms of being a Knight, but he's my superior in military rank. So how does he address me?"

The general opened his mouth to reply before he closed as a contemplative look came to his face. It was true that while this sort of thing didn't happen often, a Knight of Britannia working under a commoner of higher military rank, it was also true that it didn't often happen with female Knights.

After a few moments of contemplative silence, Darlton raised his eyes to look at the noblewoman. "You're not married, correct?"

Villetta blinked at the question. "Of course not."

"Then either 'Miss Villetta' or 'Miss Nu'." The general said. "Anything else?"

"Uh... no. No, that's it, sir." Villetta replied.

Darlton nodded his head and exited the room, leaving the two officers in stunned silence. Turning back in her chair to face the desk, Villetta wasn't too surprised to see that the look on Ciaran's face very closely mirrored her: a look of dumbfounded surprise.

"Well..." The young man said after a few seconds. "That was a bit anti-climactic."

"Just a bit." Was Villetta's only reply as she took a pen off the desk and took the finished form from Ciaran and began signing her own name while he took a new sheet and began signing his name on the new one.

* * *

Walking down the hallway, Dorothea found that today had been a much better day than she thought she would. Normally, having Nonnette wrangle her to go in to town for a shopping trip would be seen as a chore. The champagne-haired Knight of Nine had, for lack of a better phrase, an exhausting personality, and even if you were prepared for it. There were admittedly a few times when even Dorothea had fallen behind the speeding Nonette, even if she was a few years younger than the twenty-nine year old.

But not today. Today, she managed to keep pace with her friend. Shoe stores, clothes boutiques, the odd perfume store or two, and a whole myriad of other shops just passed by in a sort of blur as Dorothea went around the main shopping mall that was in the Settlement that Nonette and Ciaran had gone to the week before. She didn't buy much more than a few items that caught her eye, and of course she had to protest many times when Nonette had tried to force her to buy certain items she definitely would not buy under any normal circumstance.

The Knight of Four had thought that her change would have gone unnoticed by her companion, but when they stopped for lunch, Nonette had leaned over the table conspiratorially.

"What's gotten in to you, Dorothea?" The champagne-haired woman asked, twirling a small Martini glass in her hand. "You seem... I don't know, happier. What gives?"

Sitting across from her, dressed in a white summer dress that came down to the middle of her shin and a blue sleeveless vest, with a pair of black flats on her feet, the umber-skinned woman stabbed her fork in to a plum tomato before bringing it up level with her lips. Her emerald eyes scanned the food before she shrugged. "It's just one of those days, I think, Nonette."

But, walking down the corridor, Dorothea knew that truth that it just wasn't one of those days.

The day seemed wholly better to her since she felt like she had had weight lifted from her shoulders. She had told Ciaran that she loved him and he had reciprocated. Granted, even if she had just told him how she felt about him, it would have been good for her mood, but to hear him say that he had feelings for her too... it was like something entirely different. She felt brilliant.

Turning a corner, she saw her destination getting closer. As she closed the distance, she gave her outfit a quick clean-up. There wasn't anything truly amiss with her clothes, but it wouldn't do for a Knight of the Round to not look her best, even outside of her uniform.

Once her outfit was sorted out and she was standing outside the door to the office, she reached up and knocked on the wooden portal.

She waited a few seconds for a reply, crossing her hands together behind her back. It didn't take long before the door opened. But instead of the Caucasian man with dark brown hair and green-blue eyes, it was a face that she had not seen for a long time, a face with tawny skin, silver hair and golden eyes.

"Villetta?" Dorothea asked in surprise.

The woman in question just blinked as she looked at the Knight of Four before she realised just what to do. "My-my Lady Knight of Four! What... what can I do for you?"

Dorothea didn't let the surprise of the other woman stop her as she put on a disarming smile. "I just stopped by to see Captain Forsyth. Is he in?"

At the unspoken command, Villetta moved to the side, letting Dorothea walk in to the room. A small frown appeared on her face when she saw that Ciaran wasn't immediately looking up at her, but even from the other side of the room, the umber-skinned woman could hear the sound of his pen scratching on paper, showing he was concentrating on working.

She knew her shoes didn't make much sound on the carpeted floor, but Dorothea knew she made some sort of sound when Ciaran's eyes glanced up from the paper he was writing on to look at her. A smile came over his face as he looked up although it quickly turned in to a grimace as he dropped the pen from his hand and began massaging his wrist.

"Oh, I think I'm getting carpal tunnel syndrome." He groaned out, making Dorothea shoot him a sympathetic smile.

"Been working hard?" The Knight asked as she moved sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk, shifting her dress slightly.

"I am not cut out for doing paperwork, Dorothea." Ciaran said as he shook his head, still massaging his wrist. "Not cut out for it at all."

Looking at the young man, Dorothea saw his eyes flick up to look behind her. Turning in her seat, she turned to see Villetta still standing beside the door in quiet shock.

"You can sit down, Villetta." Ciaran said as he shook out his hand, seeming to have finally gotten over the pain in his wrist. In response, the silver-haired woman crossed the distance between the door and the desk quickly, moving to sit down in the adjacent chair to Dorothea.

"I...," Villetta began, stammering out her words as she looked at both the Knight of Four and the young Briton. "I know that you were friends with the Knight of Nine, but you didn't say anything about being friends with the Knight of Four."

In reply, Ciaran just shrugged. "You never asked."

Dorothea let out a small chuckle at Ciaran's words before she gave him a devious look. "I bet Villetta never told you that we were actually in Colchester Academy together, either."

This time, it was the young man's turn to look surprised as he looked at Villetta, a smile on his face. "No, she did not."

Looking to her side, Dorothea saw a blush begin to creep up on the tawny-skinned woman's face as she became embarrassed by the attention put on her. Feeling some pity for the poor woman, Dorothea spoke up again. "Well, in all fairness, I was in the year below her so we didn't have that much interaction before she graduated."

"Indeed. I was the Class of Twenty-Eleven," Villetta said, finally getting over her earlier embarrassment as the memory of being at the Academy came back. "You were the Class of Twenty-Twelve. I handed you your commission as an officer."

"Gave her her commission?" The young man spoke up, a questioning look on his face.

"Oh yes, you're British." Villetta replied, finally overcoming her embarrassment. "Basically, every year, a small number of soldiers of common that have shown great skill, great courage or an aspiring aptitude for command, are selected to be sent to the Colchester Imperial Academy to be trained as officers. Myself and Lady Dorothea were two such candidates."

Dorothea nodded her head in memory of the event: standing on the large stage in front of the auditorium of students, faculty and family members, in the pristine khaki uniform of a Britannian junior officer. To her right, the filled seats of the auditorium and to the left, the seated academy graduates who would receive their officer's commission. To her front stood Villetta, one of the previous years graduates and the one selected to hand out the commissions to this years graduates.

"Wait, so you're both... commoners? By birth, I mean." Ciaran said, interrupting Dorothea's reverie. Looking at him, she was surprised to see a look of astonishment on his face, but she couldn't really blame him. She'd never said anything about herself, apart from her feelings for him, so his surprise shouldn't be too strange.

"Indeed, we are." Dorothea said, leaning back in her chair a bit. "But whereas Villetta here went out on her own, I got taken under General Darlton's wing."

In reply, Villetta simply shrugged. It hadn't been that unsurprising for the scarred general to take someone under his guidance, especially if they were commoners by birth.

The harsh ringing of the phone sitting on Ciaran's desk filled the air with it's harsh noise, prompting the young man to lift the handset up to his ear as he spoke to the person on the other end of the line.

"Captain Forsyth here. He's here? All right then. No, I'll send someone down to collect him. Thank you. Good bye."

"Who was that?" Dorothea asked, her interest piqued.

"One of the butlers in the foyer." Ciaran replied as he put the handset down. "Sergeant-major Reynolds has arrived."

At the mention of the name, an image of the sergeant-major with the square face and pugnacious nose flashed across Dorothea's mind.

"The sergeant from Kitakyushu?" She asked, leaning forward in her chair. "What's he doing here?"

"He and some of his men are going to be in the new unit that Cornelia's asked me to put together." Ciaran replied before he turned to look at the tawny-skinned woman sitting next to Dorothea. "Villetta, I want you to go down and bring him up. I think it's best if you two meet each other as quickly as possible, just so you both know who you're working with."

It wasn't phrased like a conventional order, but Dorothea heard the underlying tone of the request.

"Understood, captain." Came the reply from Villetta as she stood up from her chair, before bowing to Dorothea as social custom dictated. "Excuse me, my lady."

The Knight of Four nodded her head as a reply, prompting Villetta to bow again before moving to leave the room. When the door was shut and she was sure that the woman wouldn't return, Dorothea stood up from her chair and walked around to stand behind the seated young man who had gone back to writing his signature on the sheets of paper beside him.

When she was behind his chair, Dorothea bent forward, draping her arms over the low back of the chair and down on to Ciaran's shoulders, lacing her fingers together over his chest.

Jolting back a little from the contact, the young man turned his head to look at the woman behind him. "What's gotten in to you?"

Leaning forward, Dorothea brought her head down level with his as she brought up her arms to wrap gently around his neck.

"I'm just glad that I can do this." She said as she brought her cheek to rub gently against Ciaran's, feeling the hair of his beard rub against her skin. For his part, the young man sighed gently as he leaned back in his chair and just let himself be held.

Bringing a hand up, Ciaran gently took a hold of one of her hands then, to Dorothea's surprise, he lifted up her arms, lifting her up from his chair before spinning around to face her. She wondered what he was doing as he let his eyes scan up and down her body, looking at her outfit before a soft smile came to his face.

"I'm sorry I didn't say it before, but you look lovely."

Tilting her head to the side, Dorothea let a smile of her own come to her face at the compliment. Removing her hands from Ciaran's, she lifted up her arms and wrapped them around his shoulders as she moved towards him. Soon, she felt her knees press against his and she was looking down at him.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Ciaran asked, looking up at her with a lopsided smile.

Moving a hand up, the umber-skinned woman brought a finger up to gently stroke the Briton's moustache, feeling the coarse hairs compress under her touch before they sprung back in to place. She couldn't help it as her eyes flicked down to his lips then back up to his eyes, repeating the same course twice more.

Suddenly, Dorothea's back straightened up as she felt Ciaran wrap his arms gently around her back, before he gently pulled her closer towards him. Looking down, she saw his eyes flick down to her own lips then back up to her eyes, which opened wide in realization that he wanted exactly what she wanted.

Moving her right hand, she cupped the back of Ciaran's head as her left hand moved to his shoulder, keeping him close to her. Unprompted, he rose from his seat, rising to his full height as he moved one hand up to sit against the back of her shoulder blade while the other rested against the small of her back, closing the already shrinking distance between them, until there was only one logical result.

Time slowed to a crawl as the pair closed the final centimetres between them. Before she realised it, Dorothea felt a spark of electricity shoot through her as her lips met with his in a chaste but loving kiss. Neither person moved as they continued the kiss, just staying together as they felt the other person breath through their nose, the feeling of the warm air brushing over her skin further cementing in Dorothea's mind that, yes, she was finally kissing Ciaran. Closing her eyes, she felt herself sink in the kiss.

They stayed connected for a few moments, the only time either person moved was to pull back gently as their lips moved against each other, feeling the skin of the other persons lips brush against their own lips before they finally separated. Opening her eyes, Dorothea watched as Ciaran moved to straighten his back before he slowly opened his own eyes. Looking at each other, she watched as a smile spread across his face before joining in with one of her, feeling a blush fill her cheeks.

"We did it." Dorothea said, tittering slightly in a manner she didn't actually think possible for her.

"Yeah, We did it." Ciaran responded, lifting the hand that was on her shoulder blade to the nape of her neck, before a quizzical look came to his face. "What's so funny?"

Removing the hand from the back of Ciaran's head, the Knight of Four used a finger to gently rub at her upper lip as a dopey smile came to her face. She was silent for a few seconds before she spoke. "I've never kissed a man with a moustache before."

And it was true: all of her other lovers never had any sort of facial hair. They were always clean shaven or just incapable of growing any form of facial hair on their upper lip.

Her lover looked at her in confusion before, chuckling lightly, Ciaran's mouth broke in to a dopey grin of his own. Leaning forward, he gently put his forehead against Dorothea's head. The umber-skinned woman jolted a bit at the sudden contact before she leaned in to the gesture, nuzzling gently against his own forehead, closing her eyes once more at the contact.

To Dorothea, this felt like heaven; just being close to the person she loved, to know that her feelings were returned and that were able to do things like this with each other. She didn't want this moment to end.

But, in the way the universe always operated, the moment was ruined by the simple act of someone knocking on Ciaran's office door.

With a sigh, the Briton moved his head back from it's spot against Dorothea's forehead as he relinquished his hold on her body, the Knight of Four doing the same with her hold on him.

"That's probably Villetta and Reynolds." She said, a little bit more morosely than she had intended. She couldn't blame her of course. Villetta was going to be Ciaran's second in command, but still... she did ruin the moment.

"Come on in!" Ciaran called out as he took his seat back in his chair. Just as his rear touched the seat of the chair, the door opened, revealing the purple-clad form of Villetta and sergeant-major Reynolds, dressed in a light blueish grey short-sleeved jacket and trousers, his dark blue beret nestled atop his head. As he stepped through the threshold, the older man stood to attention, his feet parallel with each other before he raised his right hand in salute.

"Sergeant-major Reynolds, reporting as ordered, sir." He said stiffly, his right hand sitting at an angle above his right eyebrow.

"Good to have you with us, Reynolds." Ciaran said, nodding his head by way of a salute before motioning for the sergeant-major to sit in one of the chairs at his desk. Moving his hand down to his side, Reynolds moved forward to sit in one of the chairs. As he drew closer, the man let his eyes look at Dorothea before bowing his head.

"My Lady." He said, before Dorothea bowed her head in reply.

"Sergeant-Major." She said in reply. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise, my Lady." Reynolds said, standing behind his chosen chair. "Are you a part of this project?"

"No. No, I'm not." Dorothea said, shaking her head. "I just came by to visit the captain."

Nodding his head in understanding, the sergeant-major sat down in his chair, Villetta moving to sit down in the adjacent seat.

"Well, I should be off." Dorothea said, putting a hand on Ciaran's shoulder, shooting him a friendly smile. "I shall see you later tonight at dinner, captain?"

"Of course, Dorothea." Ciaran said with a nod and a smile.

"Very well then. I shall see you later. Villetta?" She asked, causing the tawny-skinned noblewoman to look up at her. "It's been a pleasure to see you again."

Villetta nodded her head, although the look on her face obviously showed her surprise at the attention, not only in the Knight of Four calling her by her name. "And the same to you, my Lady."

Turning to look at Ciaran, Dorothea nodded her head again, a gesture which the young man returned. Decided that she didn't want to complicate anything further by staying in the room while the three officers talked about their new roles, so without another word, she turned around and walked towards the door.

Exiting the door and closing it softly behind her, the umber-skinned Knight of Four cast an appraising eye down both ends of the corridor. Making sure that no-one was in the immediate vicinity and that she was safe from anyone immediately walking in to view of her, Dorothea slumped gently against the wall before bringing her hand up to her lips, letting her fingers run over her lips.

The sensation of hers and Ciaran's lips meeting still lingered on them, which brought a sincere and heartfelt smile to Dorothea's face.

Pushing off from the wall, she began walk back to her room to prepare for the evening. If she had been paying attention to her walk, she would have noticed that she had a slight spring in her step.

* * *

 **AN: And Chapter 21 is up! And it now takes the total word count to over 200,000 words.**

 **Still not got a job, just getting that out of the way first, but it's unimportant to the whole thing.**

 **Funnily enough, this chapter is out earlier because of a funny reason: the scene where Ciaran is talking to Jeremiah and Villetta was originally going to be in chapter 19, but I couldn't find a place to put it in, so I thought I'd be able to put it in chapter 20, but if I did, that would have made it far too long, so... yeah.**

 **Anyway, what to talk about? Well, first up: I think that this can definitely be the part where the Alternate Universe stuff starts happening quite in earnest. The stuff with Jeremiah and Villetta is... well, it's quite self-explanatory. But the inclusion of actual counter insurgency (or COIN) operations instead of Britannia going all... well, stupid with their military tactics. I mean, yes, first and foremost, Code Geass is a mecha anime and I admit that, but come on! How the fuck can a military like the Britannian military not have dedicated COIN tactics or protocols instead of just going "kill everyone then we'll sort it out from there".**

 **Writing out the description for the Rhodesian Fireforce was a bit hard, I'll be honest. I know the majority of it off the top of my head, but I needed to do some reading on it just to make sure I got some things right and I had to be careful that I basically wasn't just repeating what I read instead of making it sound like it was being remembered off the top of my head. But from the standpoint of a person who enjoys military history, the Rhodesian Fireforce was an amazing creation in mobile warfare and COIN tactics. I mean, the engagements were heavily one sided, with Fireforces made up of 32 men going against groups of 6 to 12 insurgents, but the kill rates easily went up to 80 - 1 when used against larger groups. Granted, modern COIN tactics and vertical envelopment operations can yield higher results, but credit has to be given where credit is due.**

 **Also, if anyone knows, or can actually visualize my admittedly quite crap description, the M-24 Valkyr is actually the variant Mi-24 Hind that appears in Call of Duty: Ghosts. What? The Mi-24 is a bitching helicopter. Also, there's a small joke with the description that Guilford gave for the Valkyr, but I'm going to see if any of you people get it.**

 **I don't know what else to say on the meeting with Ciaran and Villetta and Villetta's resulting scene, so I'll just skip to Dorothea's scene. CLAMP dropped the ball a bit with her really, so I had to make up quite a bit for her. So in this universe, Dorothea is a commoner by birth, she's 26 years old (putting her at the same age as both Villetta and Cornelia) which doesn't make the gap with Ciaran's age (21 for those who've forgotten) that big. Also, the kiss scene was... damn, that was hard. Thanks to AD Field with the help on that one. Thanks a lot man.**

 **Just a heads up as well: I have been severely tempted to rewrite the first few chapters since, well, in comparison to the later chapters, they are quite crap. Plus, I'd also want to change some bits in a few other chapters, mainly descriptions of people and events a bit. But it wouldn't be anything to majorly change the overall story.**

 **Oh, also: please remember that A Brave New World has a TvTropes page and if you're able, please contribute. It would mean a heck of a lot.**

 **So, thanks for reading. Read, review and, as always, enjoy. See you guys next week.**


	22. Chapter 22

When the third day of the truce dawned, the inhabitants of Area 11 found themselves looking at the new dawn with trepidation born from differing views. To many of the Britannians in Area 11, it was an uneasy return to the status quo: none of the Elevens were trying anything, not least Zero and his band of terrorists, but there was always the constant fear that they were planning something, possibly something big.

For the Japanese, it was a trying time. For a single month, their attention had been focused on the masked man who fought for them, even if Zero had said that he fought for everyone. For those of them living in the ghettoes, there was still cause for concern: the actions of the Black Knights and the other terrorists had kept the Britannians nearly constantly scrutinizing the shattered remnants of Japan, either with patrols of armed police or regular military units. But now, with the terrorists staying quiet, the Britannians were staying out of the ghettoes for some reason. It got many of them worried. Memories of Shinjuku and Saitama were still horribly fresh in everyone's mind, and there were whispers everywhere about the Britannians planning to execute something like that again.

For the Japanese who were Honorary Britannians, it was an even worse conundrum. While they were all ethnically Japanese, at the same time, they all owed their lives to the Britannian regime. Those were facts. It was also a fact that they were looked down upon by virtually everyone in Area 11: the native Japanese saw them as traitors, people who betrayed their own kin in order to save themselves, while the Britannians saw them in the same way that anyone else would view an insect beneath their boot; worthless and, if they were feeling quite vindictive, liable to try and stamp on them. And, for the same as any insect, it was highly unlikely that anyone would stand up and protect them. They did not know who to put their hopes in to: Zero and the Black Knights offered freedom, a dream which all Japanese wished for while living under Britannian rule, but at the same time, they owed their ultimate allegiance to Britannia who, even while treating them as lower-class citizens, offered them just the slimmest chance of hope in bettering themselves, no matter how high that was.

For Area 11, it was a trying time.

* * *

However, to a very small percentage of the Japanese population, specifically the portion that made up some elements of the Black Knights, the ceasefire was infuriating.

On the night that the captive Captain Forsyth had been given back to the Viceroy and Second Princess Cornelia li Britannia, and after he had returned to their base of operations, Zero had made it clear that the Black Knights would stick to the agreement in that they would take no direct or indirect action against the Britannian government, military or police in Area 11 until the ceasefire was ended on the Sunday night. In the meantime, the group had moved to consolidate their strength after Narita by forming a stronger tie with the Six Houses of Kyoto. After the débâcle for the JLF, the Six Houses would obviously be unsure about whether or not to keep funding the remnants of the Japanese Army.

After being contacted by Kyoto and being brought to the sakuradite mines that ran through the heart of Mount Fuji, Zero and the head members of the Black Knights, minus Inoue, came face to face with the nominal head of the Six Houses: Taizo Kirihara, the Traitor, the man who the Japanese claimed to have sold them out to Britannia. Although to say that it was a 'face to face' meeting would be a misnomer considering that both Zero and Kirihara both had their faces obscured. Following a tense moment where the Black Knights thought they had uncovered the real face of Zero, only to discover that it was the mysterious green haired girl that hung around the base, and an incredibly tense moment where Zero appeared and threatened to blow up the Fuji mine, the old Japanese gentleman agreed to pledge the support of the Six Houses of Kyoto to the cause of the Black Knights in their fight against the Britannian Empire.

Upon receiving the news at the Black Knights' headquarters, the faction was understandably in an uproar: to be given the support of the main financier and backer of all the anti-Britannian resistance groups in Japan was a huge boon for the Black Knights as it would allow them to get more weapons, more supplies and, fundamentally, more Knightmares.

That joy however was tempered by the simple fact that none of the group could do nothing except train with their new equipment. Many of the group were happy to go along with it, mainly the likes of Inoue and Ohgi, knowing that their success at Narita was almost wholly down to Kallen's actions in the Guren and them using the shock of the sudden attack to surprise the Britannians. There was no logical reason that they would be able to replicate that sort of attack again, so they had to be ready for all other situations that could happen.

Many sections of the Black Knights were not that subdued however. Many wanted to take advantage of the ceasefire to strike at Britannia while they were still reeling from their loss at Narita. For one particular resistance fighter, there was a more personal side to the thing. And for once, it wasn't Kallen.

Once again, the dining area of the Black Knights' headquarters was the scene of much commotion as six of the Magnificent Seven once more spoke amongst themselves in a lively debate, although it had more in line with a shouting match. Sitting at one of the tables set aside specifically for them in a closed off area, Ohgi, Inoue and Minami sat on one side while Yoshida, Tamaki and Kent sat on the other.

"And I say that we need to hit the Britannians now!" Tamaki roared in that persistently nasally tone of his. Ohgi couldn't help but be thankful that his nose had healed, since the combination of the lisp gained from the injury and his natural voice would have made it nearly impossible to take him seriously. Under normal circumstances, the curly haired Japanese man would have ignored his friend's outburst, but the man had been getting more and more angry ever since the battle at Narita.

"Tamaki, we've been over this," Ohgi said, putting on his best placating teacher's tone. "Zero has given us orders to not do anything against the Britannians. If we're the one's who break the ceasefire, then that gives the Britannians more legitimacy against us. Besides, we need to build up our numbers."

"Ohgi's right." Inoue cut in, looking at the man to her right. "Besides, with all of the new recruits and equipment we've gotten, we need to look for new places to store all of the equipment. Plus, we need to train up all the new recruits, get them in to their units and we also need to portion out the Burais to those who can operate them. Even if we wanted to fight the Brits, we just can't do it right now."

"So what?" Tamaki roared back, surging to his feet. "We've got those bastards on the run. If we get them now, we can drive them out of Japan for good."

"God damn it." Minami groaned, putting his hand to his forehead as he leaned against his elbow on the table, and Ohgi was inclined to agree. Tamaki had been going on at this ever since Narita, and there was a real danger that many people would start following him.

To everyone's surprise, it was Toru Yoshida who spoke up next.

"I agree with Tamaki. We can't afford to let up the pressure on the Britannians. Especially now that we've got them on the back-foot."

In retrospect, Ohgi shouldn't have been surprised. The young man with the neck length brown hair had been a member of the small gang that Tamaki ran with before the invasion. So had Inoue actually, since they both wore the same red bandanna that Tamaki wore, so it wasn't too surprising to see Yoshida take his side.

"But Zero told us to lie low and wait!" Inoue yelled back, also surging to her feet, her brow furrowing in anger.

"That's what he said, but that's not what he meant!" Tamaki yelled back, still on his feet as he looked at the people in front of him. "Zero's my buddy, so I know what he wants."

Ohgi resisted the temptation to chuckle at the other man's choice of words, especially since the logic behind it didn't really make that much sense. But there was another reason that the man refused to laugh at his friend's eccentric choice of words.

"Tamaki, you've been pushing this subject ever since we let that Captain Forsyth go." Ohgi said, putting his hands down on the table. "Please don't tell me you want to simply get back at the man."

"He kicked me in the fucking dick!" Tamaki roared back. "I have a right to hate him!"

The curly haired Japanese man just blinked at the man standing across from him before, letting out a loud sigh, he put his hands up to his forehead, the palms covering his eyes as he processed exactly what Tamaki was saying. He seriously wanted to risk an outright war with Cornelia, the Witch of Britannia, and possibly the Britannian Empire at large... all because one man kicked him in the giblets?

Granted, Ohgi could, as a man, definitely understand where Tamaki was coming from, but...

"Really?" Inoue asked, giving voice to Ohgi's thoughts. "Although, to be honest, that's not the worst thing that's happened to you."

Everyone present, save for Tamaki himself, nodded their heads in agreement. Throughout their time together with the man, they had seen him get in to all sorts of trouble, usually because of his own antics, which would often result in Tamaki being injured in numerous and humorous ways. In all honesty, being kicked in the crotch then the face was pretty much par for the course for the man.

Tamaki looked set to let loose another outburst but Ohgi intercepted him, dropping his hands from his face to the table. "Tamaki, I promise you: if we catch that man again, you can kick him in the crotch as often as you'd like. But until then, do what Zero tells you to do!"

Everyone looked at Ohgi in surprise as he raised his voice, and even the man himself was surprised by what he had just done. He rarely ever raised his voice, his training as a teacher telling him that keeping a level but firm tone was always best, but there were times when Tamaki, even though he was one of Ohgi's closest friends, just really pissed him off.

The bandanna-wearing man looked subdued, but he still looked ready to say something else, and Ohgi had a feeling that he himself was ready to say something else too.

Luckily, the tension was dissolved by the arrival of a certain redhead in to the room.

"Bloody hell, guys," Kallen said as she entered in to the room, dressed in the tan and black uniform of Ashford Academy, a leather case in her hand. "I could hear you yelling outside. What's going on?"

Sighing, Inoue ran a hand through her hair before she spoke up. "Just Tamaki being Tamaki."

"Ah." Kallen said in understanding, not needing to be told anything else.

Soon, the attention in the room shifted from Tamaki to the newly arrived Kallen, the man's outburst forgotten as the teen drew closer to the table.

"Where were you last night, Kallen?" Kent asked, leaning against the table as he looked at the young ace pilot.

"Yeah, sorry about that, guys." The girl said, putting her case on to the table as a small smile crept to her face. "It's just... something happened."

Everyone looked at Kallen in surprise as she spoke. They had rarely seen the girl smile over the past few months, the last time being when they had won at Narita. But that smile had nothing on the look she had on her face now; a smile that seemed to glow with delight, no matter how small it was.

"Kallen? What happened?" Ohgi asked, leaning forward expectantly in his seat. In turn, Kallen looked up at him and he was certain that he saw tears forming in her eyes.

"Ohgi... my mum's all right." She said simply, albeit a little bit choked with emotion.

The eyes of the curly haired man opened wide in shock at the news, while Inoue let out an audible gasp of delight at the news, while the others let expressions of joy come to their faces, their prior argument forgotten.

"What happened? Where is she?" Ohgi asked, wanting to know more.

"She's at Tokyo General Hospital. She's being held in the prisoners wing, but she's being given help to kick her addiction to refrain." She answered, looking up at Ohgi happily before she let out a small sigh. "They kept their word."

The Japanese man was admittedly surprised that the Britannians would keep to the promise that Kallen had said she had made with the Knight of the Three and what she had been told by General Darlton when she was held in Nagano. But to actually be told where Hitomi was being held... that was just not something he expected to hear.

"How did you find out where she was?" Yoshida asked, the brown haired man leaning forward in his seat to look past Tamaki. The question soured Kallen's mood somewhat as the smile faded from her face and she looked down at the table.

It was Inoue who seemed to have the best idea as, standing up from her seat slowly, she fixed Kallen with a stare. "It was 'him', wasn't it?"

Ohgi looked at the woman beside him in confusion as he processed what she had said. "Wait, who are you talking about, Inoue?"

"Who else could I be talking about, Ohgi?" Inoue snapped, turning her head quickly to look at the man beside her. "It's that bloody captain Forsyth."

"See? I told you that that guy's trouble." Tamaki added, but no-one was really paying attention to him now, as Minami spoke up.

"Now wait a minute: this guy gets your mum put in to rehab, and he tells you personally? He must be after something. These bastards will always try and pull something like that."

At this, Kallen looked back down at the table in front of her silently. This seemed to set Inoue off, as her face became an angry scowl. "I knew it! I knew that he said all of those things to mess with your head." She yelled out. "I'm telling you Kallen: no matter who this guy is and no matter what he tells you, if he's with the Britannians, then he's scum. The sooner we're through with his kind, the better?"

"'His kind'?" Kallen asked, looking up at the woman in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." Inoue said in reply, crossing her arms over her chest. "The one's who act all high and sanctimonious when what they're really going to do is to stab you in the back."

"Now wait a minute, Inoue," Minami said, holding his hand up to silence his friend. "Let's not be too rash here. Now, all of us here know Hitomi. She was like a mother to all of us, and the fact this man went out of his way to help her tells me we shouldn't be too quick to judge him."

"Are you being serious, Minami?" Yoshida asked, looking at his friend incredulously. "How can you be sure that he did this with good intentions? For all we know, he... he's... he's buttering her up so he can have her way with her!"

"He wouldn't do that!" Kallen cried out defensively, her face taking on a tinge of red from the very idea.

"But how do you know that?" Yoshida countered, turning to look at Kallen.

This time, Kallen bit her bottom lip, obviously unsure of how to continue before she spoke up. "Well, remember how yesterday, it really pissed it down just before lunch?"

Everyone in the room nodded.

"The captain showed up to see me a while before it hit, and..." Again, Kallen's face took on a slightly deeper shade of red. "Well, we both got caught in it and... this uniform is not very water resistant."

"They never are." Inoue said, seeming to remember from experience.

"True," The teen said, nodding her head. "Anyway, when he saw that my shirt was nearly... nearly see through, he got embarrassed, I guess. He looked away and gave me his jacket."

In all honesty, Ohgi found himself nodding along with Kallen's story. From what he knew, all of Cornelia's Royal Guard would be a Knight, or at least behave like one. The captain had never said that he was a Knight, but the fact that he had given his jacket to Kallen showed that he had some sort of moral code, and Ohgi could sympathise with that.

Tamaki on the other hand had a completely different idea. "So he's gay."

That admittedly brought the conversation to a grinding halt as almost all present turned to look at him, who simply shrugged at what he said.

"Still doesn't explain the fact that this guy tried to get Kallen to leave us though." Inoue said flatly, obviously not fully committing to Tamaki's idea. Although it seemed that her words caught everyone's attention as they looked at her, aghast, before looking at Kallen with the same expression.

"He told you to what?" Kent asked, a surprising look of hurt on his face.

"Yeah," The redhead replied, not looking too pleased from the fact. "He did tell me to leave the Black Knights. But I said no!"

The whole table looked ready to erupt in an uproar, but Ohgi held up a hand to quieten everyone down before turning to look at Kallen. "Now wait a minute, guys. Kallen, tell us what this guy said to you. Please."

The teenager took a deep breath before she began regaling them about her conversations with the officer. Everyone knew about Kallen's initial encounter with the man at Nagano, but it seemed that only Inoue had been made privy to what she was saying now. She spoke about how he had tried to get her to see his reasoning: about how Zero was only using her as a weapon and how she was doing nothing to 'break the cycle of violence' between the two groups. She spoke about how she was apparently wasting her intellect while only acting as a fighter, how she was a hypocrite for decrying Britannia's use of violence against the Japanese while using nothing but violent methods against the Britannians and purely focusing on the fight over anything else.

It took a minute or two for Kallen to finish what she was saying, but at the end, she was met with silence as the group looked at her in confusion. He couldn't say anything for the other people in the room, but Ohgi was just digesting everything his friend had said.

Sighing gently, the man said the single sentence that no-one probably expected him to say. "I think he's got some good points."

Almost everyone looked at him with shocked expressions on their face, while both Tamaki and Inoue gave voice to their surprise with a loud, "What?!"

Ohgi held up his hands defensively as he spoke. "All right, look. I'm not saying that everything the captain said was right, but he did bring up a good point: right now, we're only using violence against the Britannians to change things. Why don't we try using non-violence for once?"

"Like what?" Yoshida asked in reply, looking at Ohgi like he was a mad man. "Like candlelight sit in outside the Viceroy's Palace?"

The curly haired man rolled his eyes at the comment before replying testily. "No, of course that's not what I mean, Yoshida. I'm just saying that we can try something different."

"Like helping out in the ghettoes?" Kent asked, tacking on to Ohgi's idea quickly, to which the man nodded.

"Exactly. If we're shown to be helping people then we might get more sympathy from some of the Britannians, plus we'd get some more support from the Japanese in the ghettoes if we're actually being shown to help them."

Ohgi watch as Minami and Kent nodded their heads in agreement, pleased that some of his friends were going along with his train of thought. It did sour his mood though when he saw Inoue, Tamaki and Yoshida scowl at him.

"What the fuck, man?" Tamaki simply asked.

"Why are the hell are you agreeing with a fucking Brit, Ohgi?" Yoshida asked, sounding genuinely hurt at the idea. Inoue didn't add anything further, but she looked both hurt and angry at the man.

"On one point, Yoshida. One point!" Kent countered, holding up his index finger to illustrate his point. "God-damn it, man. Calm down. It's not like he's going to just go other to their side like that."

"Exactly." Ohgi said, sounding very offended. "I'm just saying: we have the time now. We can do more good for Japan if we actually help them in more ways than just fighting the Britannians."

It was something that Ohgi had been thinking about recently. All through the time he spent living in the ghetto, he had seen so many problems left over by the Britannian invasion seven years ago: crumbled buildings nearly ready to collapse, along with shattered roads and pavements. Burst drainage pipes mixed with sewer pipes permeated the air with the horrible smell of decaying human waste, while the lack of any clean drinking outside of any nearby waterways meant that diseases like cholera were ever-present, and it was hard enough getting the medicine to the people affected was hard enough as it was.

Which brought up another set of problems altogether. Even after seven years, the Britannians seemed hell-bent on making the lives of the Japanese living in the ghettoes more miserable with each passing year. The black market that existed in the ruins of the old Japan was run almost exclusively by the Britannians, save a for a few opportunistic Japanese who wanted to get rich quickly, who extorted ridiculous sums of money from the people living in the ghetto, and sometimes worse. And if the Britannian police weren't getting a cut of the money (although he did have to think that that was only a small portion of the police), they were likely to just turn a blind-eye to what was going on in the ghettoes, outside of sending the odd one or two police units to terrorise the inhabitants.

"We all know the circumstances in the ghettoes, and we know that Britannians won't do shit about it." Ohgi continued, looking at each person in the table in turn. "I know that we're all doing a huge amount of work in fighting the Britannians, but we can do so much more to actually _help_ people."

Everyone at the table was silent as they digested what Ohgi had said, so he continued.

"I for one think we should do something about the medical situation in the ghettoes while we've got the chance." The man with the curly pompadour said firmly. "Even if it's for only a few days, we can do something to make a difference for these people."

Ohgi let his words sink in before someone spoke up.

"Zero hasn't said anything about doing something like that." Inoue said curtly.

Ohgi couldn't help but cringe at how quickly she had spoken but he just shrugged in reply as he turned his head to look at her. "So I'll talk to him about it."

Inoue simply started at him for a few short seconds before she turned away. "All right then."

Unfortunately, that made the room fall in to a frankly uncomfortable silence as the original topic of discussion had been overtaken by something far more serious and now that just left a void to fill.

Pushing her chair back, Inoue leant down, picking up a small stack of papers that had been sitting below her chair, before standing up and making to leave the area.

"Where you going, Inoue?" Kent asked as the woman neared the door.

"I need to go see Zero. He told me to give a report to him about the other resistance groups." Inoue said flatly before she exited the room, leaving the others in silence.

Once again, it was Tamaki who broke the silence, and for once, he didn't say something stupid. "So what's happening with your mum, Kallen?"

This brought the room back to life as the red-haired girl began talking about what the doctor had told her, about how Hitomi was not really aware of what was going on around her due to the Refrain messing with her mental state. So Kallen had to go and see her often, to talk to her, to try and ease her back in to the real world, while the doctors were giving her a full but steady detox of her system to flush out the Refrain from her system.

It made Ohgi smile with joy to know that the woman he considered to be a second mother to him was getting serious help with her addiction. But, turning his head to side slightly to look at the door she had left through, he couldn't help but be worried about the reaction that Inoue showed.

* * *

Sitting in the upper floor office of the large trailer that served as the Black Knights' mobile headquarters, Lelouch, dressed in his extravagant Zero suit minus helmet, stroked his chin as he was deep in thought. Thankfully, with CC away for a while, he could actually think.

Being the head of possibly the largest resistance cell in Japan was definitely a trying experience, especially for a Wednesday morning. The Black Knights had gotten support from the Six Houses of Kyoto, meaning that the group now had a more stable financial backer over them either getting money as donations from the people who wanted their freedom but didn't want to fight, just taking money from the criminal elements that existed in Area 11, or from the money that Lelouch had won in his gambling. The other three options were enough to cover basic things like purchasing weapons, food and such, but the aid from Kyoto would mean they could do so much more. Already, Lelouch was looking on getting a professor from the Militarized Zone of India in to the country. Apparently, this person, a professor Rakshata Chalwa, was the same person who created the Guren, and he was definitely looking forward to see what else they could make.

Another matter on hand was what to do with the other resistance groups. Obviously, with the loss of a major portion of the Japanese Liberation Front's fighting strength, the Black Knights were put at the top of the pecking order in Japan. But that wasn't an inherently good thing. There were several groups that were still operating independently in Japan, and Lelouch had sent several envoys to a number of them to try and get them on integrate them in to the Black Knights. However, a major point of vexation was for those groups who wouldn't join, the ones who believed they could take on the might of Britannia by themselves. There was also the fact that several of these groups were quite... blood-thirsty in their actions. So that left Lelouch with a quandary: did he try and assimilate them in to the Black Knights, wait for them to be taken out by the Britannians, or order them to be taken out? Currently, he sought the first option. It never hurt to have more bodies in the group, especially towards the end.

And finally there was the matter that concerned him the most: Nunnally and Rai. To say anything had blind-sided him over the past week, it was the fact that two had... formed a relationship. Really, he had not seen it coming! Lelouch had been keeping a discreet eye on the young boy ever since he had arrived without explanation at Ashford Academy a few weeks earlier, which was made further confusing when he had shown up with Kallen at the Black Knights base. Granted, the silver haired boy proved his worth as a Knightmare pilot at Narita, but it still didn't alleviate the fact that he was spending far too much time around his dear, beloved sister! It also wasn't his fault, after-all. He had a rebellion to lead, and that sort of thing couldn't wait for anyone, even his little sister.

Although it was nice to see his sister happy, to see her smile. But why did it have to be because of someone else and not him? Maybe he really should spend a bit more time with her...

The sound of someone knocking at his door drew him out of his thoughts.

"Who is it?" Lelouch asked in flawless Japanese as he put his helmet back on.

"It's Inoue, Zero." Came the reply, a woman's voice carrying through the door.

"Enter." He simply said, the mask replacing the visage of the Britannian prince in exile.

At his command, the door slid open, allowing Inoue to enter the room before shutting behind her.

Lelouch had to admit that Naomi Inoue was quite an imposing woman. Not in the same way that his half-sister-slash-nemesis, Cornelia was. In the evolutionary sense, if an animal possessed anything large, then it was automatically scary. African elephants with their big ears, hippopotamuses with their large mouths, male lions with their manes. For the Second Princess, it was the combination of her large head of hair coupled with her characteristic large cape that made her imposing (if one ignored the fact her voice could equal the same volume as a cannon when she was angry...).

Inoue was someone who definitely bucked that trend. She was a thin woman, almost matching Lelouch in litheness, with long indigo hair worn under a simple red hair-band, and soft brown eyes. But those did nothing to conceal the fact that the woman was dangerous. If the fact that it was Inoue who helped bring the captured captain Forsyth to the Black Knights wasn't known, then the fact that she would routinely chew out anyone in the group, be they new recruits, veterans or even the original members of the resistance group, with Tamaki being her 'favourite' victim. She'd never resorted to physical violence, but there were rumours that she had been getting dangerously close to doing so.

Putting her right arm across her chest, her clenched fist in front of her heart, Inoue gave the salute chosen for the Black Knights by Lelouch. In her left hand, she clutched a small stack of documents.

"I have the reports you asked for, Zero." The woman said flatly, holding the papers up before putting them down on the desk in front of him.

"Thank you, Inoue." The masked man said in reply as he reached over and pulled the papers closer to him before beginning to look through them. If there was one single aspect that Lelouch would choose to praise Inoue on was the fact that she was meticulous at her work as head of logistics and intelligence. Each sheet of paper in his hand showed the name of each resistance group that were still operating independently, their suspected numbers of fighters and equipment, their possibility of them joining the Black Knights and also whether or not the possibility existed of them trying to challenge the group in open combat. "Good work."

"Thank you, Zero." Inoue said, speaking in a flat tone of voice again. It did not escape Lelouch's attention as he put down the sheets of paper and turned to look at her.

"What's wrong?" Desperately hoping it wasn't problems of a certain type.

"Do you know what's going on with Kallen?" She asked, not in a tone that simply suggested that Zero didn't know, but heavily suggested it was probably his fault.

"What are you talking about?" Lelouch asked in return, a little worried by something upsetting his ace pilot.

In reply, Inoue's face took on a look of consternation, the older woman biting her lower lip as she obviously became unsure about what to say. "I'm... I'm not sure it's my place, Zero."

This piqued Lelouch's attention now. Inoue obviously thought of the girl as a friend, and the exiled prince-turned-terrorist could understand that. But practicality trumped any emotion like friendship.

He was tempted to use his Geass on her, but he decided against it. Instead, he turned his chair fully so he was sitting face-to-face with Inoue, before crossing one leg over the other and placing his hands, fingers interlocked, against his knee.

"Inoue," He said softly, keeping his tone low. "Anything you say to me will not leave this room. I swear it."

The woman looked at him sceptically, her eyes narrowing for a few seconds, as she looked at Zero. It was true that his identity as a Britannian had been told to the upper members of the Black Knights, and while the testimony of Kirihara had allayed a few suspicions about him, there were obviously some way to go until they fully trusted him again.

But luckily, Lelouch's gambit paid off as, sighing, Inoue began speaking. "Okay. I'm sure you know that Kallen's spoken to that Britannian captain we captured at Narita. Right?"

Beneath his mask, Lelouch's brow twisted in to a scowl at the memory of the man, but then it quickly struck him: no, he did not know. "No. No, I'd didn't."

Inoue's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh. Well... they spoke and... it looks like he's been saying some... things, to her."

"What kind of things?" Lelouch asked, shifting his pose as he uncrossed his legs, separating his hands before putting them both on his knees.

"Well... To cut a long story short, he told Kallen that we're in the wrong and that she should leave the Black Knights." Inoue said, obviously a little put-off by the fact that Zero didn't know what happened.

Lelouch's reaction was somewhat understandable.

"HE TOLD HER WHAT?!" He roared, surging up from his chair, his hands tightened in to fists. The volume of his voice made Inoue flinch and take a step back.

"He... Kallen said that the captain said that you were only using her as a weapon, that you were only focusing on violence instead of looking for other ways to help the Japanese."

Try as he might, Lelouch couldn't keep his anger under control as his arms began trembling and his fists clenched so tight, he was sure he could feel his well manicured fingernails through his gloves.

How could Kallen do this? To not tell him about this... It was... It was...

' _No._ ' He thought to himself, finally getting control of his anger. ' _This has nothing to do with Kallen. It's that damnable captain Forsyth._ '

"Inoue." He said out-loud, his voice taking on a smooth tone again. "I know that I agreed to keep this information between us, but I'm afraid that I must speak to Kallen."

"But she-" The indigo haired woman said, a look of shock coming to her face before Zero held up his hand to silence her.

"Don't worry. Your name will not be mentioned, I promise. But I have to speak to Kallen about this." He said softly. "This is something that we cannot ignore."

Inoue looked at the masked man sceptically but in the end she nodded her head. "I'll go get her for you."

"Thank you." Zero replied, nodding his head in thanks before Inoue exited the room. Sitting back down in his chair, Lelouch turned away from the door and tried to think of what he could say to Kallen. There was no denying that she was his most ardent follower. At the Mount Fuji mines, she had been the one who called against Kirihara having Ohgi remove his mask, showing her true belief in him. She had been following him unquestionable for over a month now. So how could one man shake her that badly?

A knock sounded on his door before Kallen's voice came through. "Zero, it's me. You wanted to see me?"

Time to get this over with. "Of course. Come in, Kallen."

The door slid open and the red-haired teen entered, dressed in the tan and black uniform of Ashford Academy. She had her hair down like she always did at school, but her face lacked any of the demureness she had at that place. "What is it, Zero?"

Keeping his back to her, Zero spoke. "Kallen, what is it the Black Knights are for?"

"To fight injustice... for the liberation of Japan." She answered. It was her standard answer, and the one that she knew best but something about the delivery sounded... off.

Turning his chair around, Lelouch looked at Kallen through his mask, her visage coming through with a slightly purple tint because of the non-reflective cover of the mask. "Do you still believe that, Kallen?"

The question shocked the girl, making her eyes open wider, showing the blueness of her eyes. "O-of course I do, Zero!"

She was hiding something, that much was obvious. And using his Geass on her was out of the question. Lelouch had already used it once on Kallen, so it wouldn't work again. Should he try the soft approach like he did with Nunnally if she was keeping something from him? Maybe he could try the more direct approach instead.

"Kallen. I know that captain Forsyth has been talking to you."

That was the key point: not to make Kallen sound like the one in the wrong, but to make the captain be the one in the wrong.

The revelation of the news hit the girl hard, once again causing her eyes to open wide. "How... how did you know?"

"It doesn't matter how I know, Kallen." Zero said smoothly, waving the question off with his hand. "But I want to know: what did the captain say to you?"

A look of guilt came to Kallen's face as she looked down at her feet, obviously not wanting to look him in the eye. The room was filed with an uncomfortable silence for a few long seconds before the girl spoke.

"The captain's been trying to get me to leave the Black Knights. He's been saying that you only see me as a weapon and that we're doing nothing to... to break the 'cycle of violence'."

It was a good think that Lelouch had heard practically the same thing from Inoue before, because he thought that he'd probably give the same reaction he did before. Luckily, he steeled himself against the angry thoughts welling up in him and remained calm.

"I see." He simply said as he pushed himself up from his chair, moving to stand before Kallen. "Kallen, is it wrong to defend yourself if someone attacks you?"

The red-haired girl arced an eyebrow at the question. "Well... no, of course not."

"Well let me elaborate on that question: if someone attacks you, and in the process of defending yourself, you kill them, is that wrong?"

Confusion fell across Kallen's face as she thought about the question. "Well... I'm not sure. No?"

"Of course not." Lelouch said, pointing the index finger of his right hand at the ceiling in a gesture that meant to reinforce his point in the way that all lecturers instinctively knew to do. "Because, in the end, the ends justify the means. Your survival is what is paramount, and that is exactly what is happening here, in Japan."

Kallen just looked at the masked man as he continued speaking.

"The path we are embarking upon will not clean. It will be a path upon which blood will be spilt, there is no denying that, but, in the end, won't the realisation of our dream of a free and independent Japan be worth it?"

"I... I guess." The girl replied, obviously agreeing with the logic, but not wholly sure about it.

Lelouch frowned under his mask. Not too long ago, he would have seen Kallen immediately agree with his logic, no questions asked. To see her hesitate... how badly had this man affected her?

' _Time to try a different tact._ ' He thought to himself before he spoke out loud. "Kallen, how is your mother doing?"

That definitely put Kallen on the back foot. "How... how did you find out about that?"

Zero simply shrugged. "I have my ways. I did research on all of the main staff of the Black Knights; Inoue had a perfect credit score before the invasion, Tamaki had to repeat both the seventh and eighth grade, to name a few."

Kallen looked at the masked man with a look of fear and Lelouch was certain he could see her limbs trembling.

"Kallen. None of what I know will be used against you." He said softly, trying to calm her down. "You are my best pilot and my most ardent follower. I had to make sure that you were at your peak mental strength as well as your physical strength. So... how is your mother?"

The room fell in to uncomfortable silence again before Kallen spoke. "She's... she's getting help. She's in the Tokyo General Hospital."

Zero nodded his head. "So I heard. I also heard that it was because of captain Forsyth that she was placed their, right?"

Kallen nodded her head. "That's right."

"Don't you find it a little... strange that he takes such an interest in you, Kallen?" Zero asked, putting a finger against the bottom of his mask in a thinking pose.

"What do you mean?" The girl asked, obviously confused at the line of thinking.

"What I mean, Kallen, is that you shouldn't think too highly of the captain." He responded simply. "He works for the Viceroy, and is actively engaged in fighting us. The fact that he knows who your mother is and who you are, means that he'll try and control you."

Once again, Kallen's eyes widened in shock at what he said. But to Lelouch's surprise, she quickly shook her head. "No, I'm sorry but I don't believe that, Zero."

That was not what Lelouch expected to hear. "What do you mean?"

"Well for starters, he's a bit of an idiot." Kallen replied flatly.

' _Now that was not what I expected._ ' Lelouch thought to himself before he spoke. "What do you mean?"

"He came to see a person he knows is a known terrorist, by himself, to tell me that my mother is in the hospital."

'Where anything could happen' was the unsaid part of her sentence, to which Lelouch nodded. "Yes. That is quite bad."

"So I don't think I need to worry about Ciaran trying to blackmail me." Kallen said calmly, before she quickly put her hand over her mouth as she realised what she had said.

"Ciaran?" The masked terrorist said in confusion.

"That... that's his name." Kallen said demurely, putting her hand down to her side.

"Yes, I figured as much. How do you know it?"

"When we had him held captive," Kallen replied, her feet fidgeting a bit. "He introduced himself to me with his name."

' _Ciaran Forsyth._ ' Lelouch mentally repeated, rolling the name around in his head. ' _Good to know._ '

"But don't you worry, Zero." The girl in front of him said, snapping Lelouch's attention back to her. "I'll say to you what I said to him: I won't go easy on him the next time. He's still an enemy."

Beneath his helmet, Lelouch couldn't fight the smile that came to his face. So the captain hadn't turned her against him. Good.

Nodding his head, the prince-turned-terrorist turned and sat back down in his chair before turning it to face away from Kallen. "Good. Good to know. Now... I believe you should be off to school."

He didn't need to turn around to know that the ace pilot in disguise was looking at her watch, although the small squeak of shock told him that he was on the money.

"Oh crap!" Kallen said aloud. "I have to go. I'll be able to attend the meeting tonight."

"I have no doubt." Zero said as he picked up the sheets of paper to finish reading through them, not really paying attention as Kallen exited the room, closing the door behind her.

Reaching up, he removed his helmet from his head, shaking his black hair free to fall naturally over his head again. It didn't take long for him to finish reading the papers and digest the information contained on them.

Setting the last sheet down on the desk top, he leant back in his chair, causing it to groan quietly in protest at the treatment. The facts had been laid for him on the matter of the remaining resistance groups in Japan, he could formulate a better plan on how to deal with them.

But there was still one issue to deal with: how to keep Rai away from Nunnally. Crossing one long leg over the other, Lelouch put a finger to his chin as he tried to think of the best, non-lethal way to get the young boy away from his sister.

He remembered overhearing Sugiyama say that Tamaki couldn't keep a girlfriend for very long, maybe he could ask him.

* * *

The day couldn't have started out better for Dorothea, even if she had wanted it to. She had woken up refreshed, had a well balanced breakfast and, after having a small, post breakfast clean-up, she had engaged in a small make-out session with Ciaran in his room, where she still found herself now. Well, the bathroom anyway.

Even as she gave herself a little bit of a comb in the mirror, her black hair down past her shoulder, the Knight of Four couldn't help but smile at the memory of what had happened not ten minutes ago. Granted, the pair were still getting in to the flow of each other's rhythms, more so on Ciaran's part with Dorothea, they found themselves greatly enjoying the kisses traded with each other. But the revelation as to why was definitely something she had not expected.

It had certainly been a shock when the Briton dropped the bombshell that he had never had a prior relationship before.

"So... I'm your first?" Dorothea had asked, looking at young man dressed in the deep maroon uniform of the li Britannia Royal Guard sitting on the small couch set against one of the walls of the room.

"Well, yeah." Ciaran simply said, shrugging his shoulders.

To say that was a shock to the woman was a giant understatement. Walking over, she moved towards the couch and sat down beside him, gently sidling up next to him. For his part, Ciaran only put his elbows on to his knees, steepling his fingers as he let his arms drop and he leant forward.

"To be honest," Dorothea said, overcoming a small bit of silence. "It does explain your reluctance to say what your feelings for me were."

Out of the corner of her eye, the umber-skinned woman saw Ciaran's face scrunch up in a look of shame.

"I don't hold anything against you for it!" The woman said quickly, putting a hand on her lover's shoulder. "It's just... why didn't you say anything at the start?"

Letting out a quiet huff, Ciaran shrugged his shoulders again. "I just... I just didn't want you to think that... I don't know what I was thinking really."

Dorothea furrowed her eyebrows at him before she shrugged her shoulders. "So... you've never had any sort of relationship with anyone? Ever?"

Suddenly leaning backwards, Ciaran let his hands hall away from each other as he let his back collide softly with the back of the couch. "Does having a crush on someone count?"

Dorothea shook her head.

"Then no."

To say that the Knight of Four was stunned was putting it quite mildly. She thought that the young man was quite handsome in a rough sort of way. His beard and head of curly, dark brown hair reminded Dorothea heavily of artwork she'd seen in historical texts about the Celts who originally inhabited the British Isles. It honestly baffled her how someone hadn't tried to get their hands on him already.

"Are you ashamed that you didn't have a relationship before me?"

This seemed to confuse Ciaran as he quickly arced an eyebrow up at her, which then turned in to a quizzical look. "Well... no, not ashamed. Kind of... it's hard to explain."

Lifting up her legs up on to the couch so she was sitting fully on the furniture, Dorothea leaned closer to Ciaran, putting her head on to his shoulder. "I'm quite smart. Try me."

Closing his eyes, the young man took in a breath before letting it out. "I just... All my life, I've seen people enter in to relationships or be in them. From people I know from school, people from where I used to work, people I know from the internet, practically everywhere. And... I don't know. I just felt... left out."

"Left out?" The woman repeated.

"I was never the kind of guy girls would look at twice." Ciaran elaborated, looking a little bit downcast at what he was saying. "And to be honest, you saying you loved me... it scared me a bit."

"What?" Dorothea asked, pushing herself up to look properly at the young man next to her, a look of shock on her face.

"I went through so much of my life thinking that... that I'd never find anyone who'd say those words to me. And, to be honest, a part of my brain always told me that if anyone did say those words to me, that they'd just be lying to me. So I got scared that was what was going on."

Dorothea just looked on in quiet shock at what her lover had said.

"What about now?" She asked, fixing the man next to her with a soft stare as he lifted up his head to look at her.

"Well..." A little smile played at his lips, which Dorothea definitely did not miss. "Yesterday definitely told me that you were telling the truth."

Dorothea let a smile tug at her own lips at those words.

"Though of course, I've been wrong before." Ciaran suddenly said happily, before giving the woman beside him a smirk.

Her emerald eyes and her mouth opened wide at what he had just said. "Are... are you extorting a kiss from me?"

Ciaran let a mask of innocence came to his face. "Just one."

Dorothea shot her lover a dismissive look in return before her face softened in to another smile. "All right then."

Leaning forward, the Knight of Four let her mouth press softly against his own. She could feel the smile on his lips and she couldn't fight the smile that came to her as they lengthened their kiss, before they separated from the kiss. Just as quickly, they re-engaged the kiss.

Soon that kind of deteriorated in to what was basically a make-out session-slash-lesson on proper kissing etiquette after Ciaran accidentally leaned forward when their lips were parted and the duo ended up bashing their teeth together. Luckily, the Briton was a quick learner and definitely willing to learn what to do. A few things the young man knew not to do already: hands could never touch her rear or hips, no tongue, and also no humming. It just felt weird to Dorothea when someone hummed while kissing.

Even though they two had kissed each other the day before, there was something about this time that made it feel completely different. The whole experience felt... different now. It's because she was his first actual love, Dorothea told herself. There was no falsehoods between them, nothing to be scared of. Just each other, together here and now, enjoying the closeness of each other.

The sound of someone knocking at the door to the room earned an annoyed growl from both lovers as they disengaged from the kiss reluctantly before the eyes of both people opened in shock as Guilford's voice came through from the other side of the door.

"Are you in there, Ciaran?" The Knight asked, causing the young man in question to look at Dorothea in shock.

"Just a minute, my Lord!" He quickly called out before turning to look at the woman beside him and speaking in hushed tones, "What do we do?"

This was not something either person had thought of what to do in this sort of situation.

Maybe she should hide? No, that wouldn't work. The space in the cupboard and under the bed would be far too small for her. The bathroom was out of the question too. Too far away, even if she tried to run, and there was no chance of her hiding underneath the couch either, ignoring the fact it was incredibly undignified.

Looking around quickly, Dorothea spied a small stack of papers on top of Ciaran's desk. As quickly and as quietly as she could, the Knight of Four crossed over to the desk, picked up the sheets of paper. Seeing that it was the paper Ciaran wrote for his new unit, she flipped it open to a random page before she moved back to the couch and sat down.

Giving herself a quick pat down to make sure nothing about her outfit was amiss, she quickly took on a relaxed seated pose, giving the page a quick scan so she knew what she would be talking about.

Turning her head slightly, she looked at the look of confusion on Ciaran's face, before moving her head forward and opening her eyes wide in a gesture that universally meant 'well?'.

"Uh, come in, Lord Guilford." The young man said with a little hesitancy as he hoped what Dorothea was doing would work. Quickly, the wooden door opened and Cornelia's Knight walked in, nodding his head politely at the young man.

"Lady Ernst, what a surprise." Guilford said upon spying the Knight of Four sitting next to Ciaran on the couch, who nodded her head as a greeting.

"Good day to you, Lord Guilford." Dorothea said nonchalantly, looking up from her reading. "Can I help you with something? Or are you just here to see Ciaran?"

Quickly overcoming his surprise, Guilford spoke. "Actually, I came to see the young captain to try and find where you are."

"Oh?" Dorothea replied, taken aback by his words. "Why is that?"

"The Princess wants to see all of us. She neglected to say why though." The bespectacled Knight said with a small shrug. "Speaking of which: Where is Lady Nonnette?"

"She'll either be in her room or in the media room." The lady Knight replied, trying her best to remember the habits of her friend in the Viceroy's Palace.

Guilford nodded her head. "I'll go find her presently. The meeting is set for quarter past eleven, so, with respect, my Lady, that should give you enough time to fix your hair."

"Fix my hair?" Dorothea asked, looking at the Knight in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Turning her head, she looked at Ciaran to see what Guilford was talking about. To her surprise, she saw that the Briton's eyes were wide open in shock, although thankfully it didn't seem that Guilford could see his expression. Reaching a hand up, Dorothea took a hold of the braided portion of her hair which, to her relief, had not been undone.

Dorothea shook her head gently as she spoke. "I don't know wha-" She stopped speaking as she felt a single piece of hair flip down from her head and landed against her forehead.

"Ah." She simply said. "Thank you for pointing that out, Lord Guilford."

The Knight nodded his head softly at her thanks. "I know that Ciaran's work can be quite... formidable at the start, but obviously it shouldn't be anything to get too daunted by."

Dorothea let her eyes flick quickly between Guilford and Ciaran before a smile came to her face. "Oh, it's all right, my Lord. That's why I was here."

"Yes, I do think that Ciaran would make a good teacher." Guilford said, inclining his head towards the young man who simply shrugged by way of a reply. Clapping his hands gently, the taller man smiled again. "Right, then. I shall be off and leave you to get ready, my Lady. I shall see you two in fifteen then?"

"We'll be there presently, Lord Guilford." Ciaran said, prompting the knight to bow his head to both of them before he turned to leave, exiting the room in his attempt to hunt down Nonnette, leaving the pair alone in the room.

After waiting a few seconds to make sure that the Knight would not return, Dorothea and Ciaran let out a deep sigh as they slumped in to their seats, letting out a breath neither knew they were holding.

"That was close." Ciaran said, putting a hand to his forehead, in relief, prompting a nod from Dorothea before she wordlessly got up from her seat and walked towards the bathroom to fix her hair as Guilford had suggested.

Entering the bathroom, she flipped on the light-switch, bathing the room in stark white light which quickly dimmed to a normal level as her eyes took in the light. Moving to stand in front of the mirror, Dorothea saw what Guilford was talking about; several strands of hair had gotten free from her hair bun, some only slightly along with the single thick strand of hair that had gotten loose to flop free and rest against her forehead. Quickly scanning her eyes across the porcelain sink top, she spied the form of a simply comb.

Easily slipping her hair free from her braid, Dorothea shook her head lightly to shake her hair free before she picked up the comb and began working on her hair after turning on the sink to wet the comb.

Which is where we find Dorothea now, standing in the bathroom of her young lover, tending to her hair as she begins thinking about what had happened in the last few minutes. She had learnt that she had been Ciaran's first requited love, and that got her a bit worried for him. They had reached the conclusion that they loved each other over a good few weeks, but even so, things were going a bit too quick for him, and she was scared that he'd get overwhelmed.

"Something wrong?"

Snapping her head around, Dorothea saw Ciaran leaning his shoulder against the door frame to the bathroom, his arms folded across his chest while a look of quiet worry was on his face.

"No, of course not." She replied, trying to put a bit of false calm in her voice. "What makes you say that?"

Still in his place, the Briton gave her a soft smile. "You just had it written on your face, sad to say."

"Ah." Dorothea said dejectedly. Putting the comb down, she let her eyes droop so they looked at the sink. "Sorry."

Behind her, she heard Ciaran move closer to her but she still couldn't help but jolt as she felt his arms wrap gently around her waist before he nestled his chin against her right shoulder, causing her to look up at his soft face in the mirror.

"Don't be." He said softly, smiling gently. "What's wrong?"

Moving her arms, she gently stroked her hands over Ciaran's arm, feeling the velour fabric against her fingers. She spent a few seconds taking in the feelings of being held so gently before she gave voice to her feelings.

"I know this is all going quite fast for us and... I'm worried that it'll be too much for you to handle, and I think that... that we should slow it down."

Looking up, she saw a thoughtful look come to Ciaran's face. "Do you think so?"

A nod of her head was her answer.

"All right then." Ciaran simply said, nodding his own head, rubbing his chin against her shoulder.

That was not the reply Dorothea expected. "You're... you're not... angry?"

A light chuckle came from the man behind her. "Why would I be? As I said before, you're my first, and you're also older than me too. So if you say we should slow it down, then I'll not say a word against it."

Dorothea was not sure what to say right away: Ciaran was basically giving her free reign with the relationship and he had no qualms against it. He trusted her that much.

Reaching up, she wrapped her arms across her chest, taking a hold of Ciaran's upper arms in an attempt at a hug, while she closed her eyes and smiled as she leaned her head to gently rest against his own. "Thank you."

"No problem." Ciaran said. "But I do have one proviso."

"Oh?" Dorothea asked, pulling her head back from resting against his head. This got her a bit worried.

"I've still not taken you on a date yet." He said, raising an eyebrow at her. "It really doesn't make sense for us to do all of this and not for us to go on a date."

Dorothea opened her mouth, ready to say something when she realised that, yes, they hadn't gone on a date.

"It is a bit out of sequence, yes." The Knight of Four finally admitted. "What did you have in mind?"

"I'll be honest, I'm not sure." The young man said, shrugging his shoulders gently. That earned a light chuckle from Dorothea, who simply shook her head before moving it back to rest against his.

"Oh, Ciaran." She said in happy exasperation. "Let's hear what Cornelia has to say, then we'll got from there. Sound good?"

Ciaran nodded his head. "Sounds good." He replied, before he gave Dorothea kick kiss on the cheek. "I'll leave you to finish up."

Letting his arms slid from her grip, Dorothea turned her head as she watched Ciaran leave the bathroom to wait in the main bedroom before she returned to combing her hair as a smile came to her face.

* * *

It didn't take long for Ciaran to wait for Dorothea to finish with her hair, the young man sitting on the couch, gently tapping his foot to a rhythm he had in his head but wasn't wholly sure what it was. It must have been less than a few minutes or so until Dorothea stepped out of the bathroom, her hair done up smartly in her customary braid with not a hair out of place.

"I'll be honest, it always amazes me that you can do your hair up that quickly." The young man said, looking the umber-skinned woman who merely shrugged.

"Practice makes perfect." Dorothea said, swinging her head around to the side a bit, making the braid in her hair swing gently from side to side. "Shall we head out?"

Pushing himself up from his seat, Ciaran made show of bowing dramatically at his waist as he gestured to the door. "After you, my Lady."

The gesture caused Dorothea to burst out in to a small laughing fit at the gesture, before she spoke, fighting hard to keep the laughter out of her voice. "Why thank you, Captain Forsyth."

Standing back up to his full height, Ciaran moved to and opened the door for his partner to exit through. After closing the door behind him, the duo began their trek down to Cornelia's office.

Along the way, the duo kept a respectful silence between each other. They had to, unfortunately, be careful around the palace, in case word of their relationship got out due to the loose lips of a maid being where they shouldn't be. The only rooms they could show their affection for each other was in either of their rooms, and even then they had to be careful. So along the way, the kept up the façade that their respective ranks told them they were: just a captain of the Royal Guard and a Knight of the Round.

The trip was short and done in silence, both people fixed on their destination until they arrived at the door to Cornelia's office. Reaching up with his right hand, Ciaran made ready to knock on the door before he was stopped by Dorothea putting a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to look at her.

"Something up?"

"You said you'd agree to let me take the lead in this relationship," Dorothea stated. "So I think we should hold off until later before we let the others know about us."

Ciaran furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "How long?"

The woman beside him shrugged softly enough that if he wasn't watching, he'd have missed it. "Until we both feel it's the right time."

Letting out a sigh, Ciaran let his palm rest against the wooden portal in front of him. It was true that he said that he would let Dorothea take the lead in the relationship, but he also knew that she wouldn't just let him be strung out in such a way to keep the people he came to care about in the dark.

Nodding his head, he turned to look at Dorothea as he smiled. "All right the-AH!"

The Briton let out a loud yelp as he nearly fell forward on to his face, only managing to stop his forward momentum because of some quick footwork, due to Euphemia opening the door. Which also nearly caused the two young people to collide with each other hadn't the Third Princess quickly stepped to the side.

"Euphemia!" Ciaran cried out in indignation. "Was that on purpose?"

The pink Princess had her hands covering her mouth, either in shock or to stifle a laugh, he couldn't tell. "It wasn't. I was just one my way to find you, honest. Isn't that right, Cornelia?"

Looking up, Ciaran saw the Second Princess seated behind her desk, looking at the display with a mirthful smile, while beside her, General Darlton just stood their with his arms across his chest and was shaking his head.

"She is right, Ciaran." Cornelia said, looking directly at Ciaran.

In turn, the young man stood back up to his full height and grabbed the front of his jacket before pulling it down gently to smarten himself up. "All right then."

Behind him, Ciaran heard Dorothea chuckle lightly as she walked in to the room before Euphemia closed the door behind them. Making their way across the room to stand in front of the Princess' desk, the duo bowed their heads as a greeting as Euphemia made to stand beside her sister.

"Are we still waiting on Guilford and Nonette?" Ciaran asked.

As if on cue, the door opened again and the duo in question walked in, Guilford closing the door behind a very annoyed Nonette.

"Where did you find her, Lord Guilford?" Dorothea asked, a smile playing at her lips.

"In the media room, my Lady." The Knight replied, prompting the Knight of Four to gently nudge Ciaran with her elbow.

"Told you." She said happily.

"And right in the middle of a KMF League match too!" Nonette wailed out, sounding like a very stroppy child rather than a Knight of the Round.

"KMF League?" Ciaran asked quietly.

"Competitive Knightmare Frame League." Darlton answered.

"That's a thing?" The young man replied in disbelief.

"You've never watched a match?" Nonette asked, her annoyance quickly forgotten as Ciaran shrugged his shoulders.

"Not really had the time." Ciaran replied with a shrug.

"Can we please get this meeting under way so we can get ready for lunch?" Cornelia suddenly said, startling everyone in the room and causing more than one muttered apology to come forth. "All right then. I've called you here because I have some news to announce."

Standing up from her chair, Cornelia looked at everyone as she spoke. "First off: the first prototype of the vehicle based on Ciaran's Mine Resistant Ambush Protected principle is being constructed, and we'll be testing it in the following days."

The Briton look at Cornelia quizzically before he realised what she was talking about. It had been a paragraph or two in the essay he had written on his world's counter-insurgency tactics: basically, military vehicles with a reinforced lower hull built in the shape of a V, to deflect any explosive force from ground-based IEDs and mines away from the vehicle and to sides. He hadn't heard any news about any of the resistance groups in Japan pulling that sort of thing, but it seemed like a reasonable precaution to take.

But from the looks of her face, Cornelia had more news to share.

"Is there anything else, my Lady?" He asked.

"Oh, I'm so glad you asked, Ciaran." Cornelia said as a smile came to her lips. "We've got the Valkyrs."

The young man didn't even try to contain his delight as he did a double fist pump and cried out in joy. "Yes!"

This prompted a chuckle from Darlton and Cornelia before Ciaran suddenly became quite self-conscious and stood back at a form of attention. "Sorry." He said sheepishly.

"Don't be." Guilford said. "You've got a right to be happy. You're hard work is paying off and you soon you'll be in command of your own unit."

"Indeed it does." Cornelia added on, the smile still on her face. "But that's not the only news."

The group turned their heads to look at the Second Princess as she continued speaking.

"Due to the nature of your new unit, and the nature of how they are going to operate, I'm afraid that we need to comport this with a bit of secrecy."

"Well, you're not doing a good job at it, Nellie." Nonette added, a smirk on her face, which prompted Cornelia to roll her eyes.

"Be that as it may," The purple-haired Princess continued, ignoring the Knight of Nine. "We cannot train the soldiers for the new Fireforce here in Area 11, nor can we have the Valkyrs shipped to Area 11 until the soldiers and aircrews have been trained to use them."

"So what does that mean?" Ciaran asked dejectedly, fearing something horrible.

"It means that yourself, General Darlton and Lady Villetta will be making a trip to the Homeland, specifically Sacramento Air Base in California county."

The young man's jaw dropped at the news, earning a chuckle from those gathered around him. "The-The Homeland?"

"It's the only place where we can gather the soldiers and get them used to using the new equipment without having the Black Knights or any other terrorist cell interrupt us, or find out what we're planning on doing." Cornelia said.

Ciaran nodded his head at the logic although he did have a completely different fear on his mind, but he decided not to voice it, instead focusing on the positive. "So when do we leave?"

"Tonight, at seven o'clock." Darlton said.

"Tonight?!" The young man replied. "That's bloody short notice."

"Language, captain." Cornelia chastened, scowling softly at Ciaran before her face softened again. "It is, but I'm sure you can agree with the idea for us to get this out of the way as quickly as possible."

Not able to say anything against her logic, the young man nodded. It was true that if they wanted to nip this insurgency in the bud, they'd have to get everything done. And fast. But still this was way too quickly.

"Do I at least get to pack?" Ciaran asked.

"Of course." The Princess replied, looking at him like he had said something painfully obvious. "But don't pack too heavily. There'll be something extra waiting for you at Sacramento."

Arching an eyebrow, the young man looked at Cornelia sceptically but didn't say anything on the subject. Although he had something else on his mind to say.

"What about Alpha Company of the 200th Pathfinders'? Surely they'll be coming with us?" He asked.

"They've already left." General Darlton answered. "It's an eleven hour plane journey for them, so they'll be there ahead of you. Plus, I doubt you'd really enjoy flying in a military transport."

"And Lady Villetta?" He had to ask. It wouldn't do right for him to not care about his second in command.

"She'll be here in a few hours time." Cornelia answered. "She'll be able to join us for an early dinner before you all leave."

"So what's going to happen while we're away?" Ciaran asked.

"Same old, same old, really." The Second Princess replied. "Although with Darlton gone, I'll be taking over military matters plus the matter of politics. So not too much change really."

At that, Cornelia shot the scarred general a sly look to which the man only replied with a shrug.

"Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?" She asked, turning back to look at Ciaran, who only shook his head.

Instead, it was Dorothea who spoke up.

"Your Highness, would you permit me to accompany Captain Forsyth, General Darlton and Lady Villetta to Sacramento?" The Knight of Four asked.

This confused almost everyone present, except for Ciaran, as they turned to look at her. However, Dorothea didn't pay them any attention as she continued speaking. "I served with Ciaran, along with with the men of the 200th Pathfinders during Kitakyushu, plus I am also familiar with Lady Villetta. Plus, with myself being a combat veteran under Darlton's tutelage, I feel that I would be well suited to aid the captain in this endeavour."

It sounded all official and measured, but Ciaran knew it was just an attempt to try and get more time together. And he was all for it. If they were together, then they could tell Darlton about the whole thing.

Unfortunately, Nonette chose to open her mouth. "Oh no, you don't!"

"What?" Dorothea asked, looking at the champagne-haired woman beside her who had an angry look on her face. "Why?"

"Because you've gone with him twice!" Nonette said, jabbing an accusatory finger in the air towards her fellow knight.

"Poor choice of words..." Ciaran quietly muttered to himself, thankfully quiet enough for nobody to hear him as Dorothea countered Nonette's... argument.

"I joined him at Kitakyushu. That's it!"

"And you also went with Euphie to pick him up from the Black Knights." Nonette countered. "That's twice! I've only been with him once."

Turning his head, Ciaran looked at Guilford who looked back at him apologetically. "Is this really happening?"

"Why are you bringing this up, Nonette?" Cornelia asked exasperatedly, putting her hand against her forehead.

"I'm simply saying that if either of us should go with Ciaran to the Homeland, it should be me." Nonette said, putting her hands against her hips. "It's only fair."

Ciaran just looked between the two Knights of the Round. Normally, the idea of two gorgeous women arguing over him would have been something for him to take delight in but right now... it was a bit scary, not least due to the fact that Dorothea and Nonette were staring daggers at each other.

"So how are we going to resolve this? Without killing anyone?" Darlton tried to joke, but the tension in the air made it fall flat.

"We'll do this old school." Nonette simply said, not taking her eyes off Dorothea as she raised her right fist in front of her, which prompted Dorothea to copy the gesture. On reflex, everyone else in the room took a single step backwards.

"Ready?" The dark-skinned Knight of Four asked.

"Ready when you are." Nonette replied, narrowing her eyes.

At once, both women raised their hands up and let them fall as they spoke. "Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

Ciaran could only let his jaw drop at what just happened: all that drama. For a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors?!

Dorothea's hand was a clenched fist while Nonette's hand was flat.

"Ha! Paper beats rock. I win!" The Knight of Nine cried out in joy at her victory before spinning on the spot to look at Darlton. "That's not going to be a problem, right?"

The general turned his head to look at Dorothea, who was simply frozen in place with her hand still held out in a fist, then to Ciaran, who was just completely gob-smacked.

"I... none that I can see." He said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Right then!" The Knight of Nine said, spinning around on one foot before she began walking to the door, looking very much like the cat that got the cream. "I'm going to do some packing. Toodles!"

Ciaran had no idea of what to make of what just happened. Although he doubted that he had that much of a say in what would happen.

"Is there any other business we need to discuss?" Cornelia asked, hoping dreadfully to change the topic as Dorothea's mind finally processed what had just happened and she let her arm drop down to her side.

"Um... what time will we arrive in Sacramento, your Highness?" Ciaran asked in turn, finally overcoming his shock.

"It would normally be five in the morning, but since you'll be taking a super-sonic jet, flight time will only be about four to five hours."

"So you'll be able to get some sleep then." Dorothea finally said, her voice a little bit more tepid than normal.

"Looks like it then." The young man replied. "Is there anything else?"

Cornelia shook her head. "Darlton will tell you at lunch

"Then by your leave, your Highness." Ciaran said, bowing his head, Dorothea copying the gesture as the duo made to exit through the door.

"Wait up!" Euphemia called out, catching the duo as they were a few paces from the door and Ciaran was opening the door. "I'll join you two."

The older pair waited beside the door as the Third Princess bowed her head in thanks before exiting the door, Ciaran and Dorothea following her as the young man closed the door behind them.

Turning around from the door, the young man looked at Dorothea who still had a look quiet dejection on her face, her eyes looking down at the floor. This caused a look of confusion to appear on Princess Euphemia's face.

"Is something wrong, Dorothea?" The young Princess asked.

This prompted the Knight of Four to raise her eyes and look at the young man before speaking. "Should we tell her?"

Flicking his eyes from his lover to the pink-haired royal, he nodded his head. "But not here."

"What's going on?" Euphemia asked, very much confused by the turn of events. Neither adult said anything as they simply lead her to Ciaran's room, the duo guiding Euphemia towards the destination. On reaching their destination, the young man held the door open for both ladies to enter through the doorway before entering the room himself and closing the door behind them.

"Ciaran, what's going on?" Euphemia asked, sounding a little sternly.

"Just hold on a minute, Euphemia." The young man said as he moved over his desk and wheeled the chair over towards where she was standing, motioning for her to be seated. "You should probably sit down."

The Princess did not look so sure.

"Please."

Looking at the chair, then back to Dorothea who was seated on the couch, Euphemia demurely sat on the chair. Opposite her, Ciaran moved around to sit on the couch beside Dorothea, putting his hands together resting his elbows against his knees.

Folding her hands together and putting them against her legs, Euphemia fixed the duo with a hard stare, or as hard a stare as her soft features could allow. "So... what's going on?"

Ciaran opened his mouth to speak but closed it shortly after. He really had no idea what to say in this situation. It had not been something he ever thought he'd be prepared to do or to actually do, so it was hard to know what to say. He couldn't just go "Hey, guess what? Me and Dorothea are in a relationship." It wouldn't work, so he tried racking his brain for the right words to say.

Sensing his discomfort, Dorothea put a hand on his thigh, making him draw his attention to her. Looking at her, his worry went away as he saw her give him a soft but sincere smile. Unfolding his hands, he gently took her hand in his, giving the back of it a gentle stroke with his thumb.

Turns out, words aren't always needed since a gasp sounded from the seated Princess, a hand coming up to her face to try and fail to suppress the smile that came to her face.

"You two...? You're both...?" Euphemia asked happily, moving her hand down from her mouth, prompting Ciaran and Dorothea to nod their heads. Moving quicker than either could predict, the Princess leaped off her chair, her arms outstretched before she wrapped her arms around both of their necks and drove them against the back of the couch.

Ciaran was unsure of what to do, so he did the only thing he could do: he began laughing. Past Euphemia's hair, he could see Dorothea look at him like he was mad before a smile graced her lips and she began laughing herself.

Letting go of their necks, Euphemia quickly moved to pull the chair closer to the still chortling duo on the couch. "So, tell. When did you two... tell each other?"

Calming down from her laughing fit, Dorothea looked at Euphemia with a smile. "It was the day after we got Ciaran back from the Black Knights. Or rather the night we got him back."

This earned a raised eyebrow from Euphemia.

"We slept in the same bed." Ciaran said, avoiding the phrase 'slept together' in case Euphemia got the wrong idea.

A look of disbelief came to the young Princess' face as she processed what she had been told. Looking to his side, Ciaran hoped that Euphemia wouldn't get the wrong impression as he looked at Dorothea.

"Have you kissed yet?" Euphemia suddenly asked, catching both adults by surprise.

"What?" The young man asked, completely ignoring all sense of protocol and manners at the question.

"Have you two kissed yet?" The Princess repeated, fixing the two with a steady stare. To his side, Ciaran saw a blush creep across Dorothea's face, and he was certain he could feel one coming on too.

"We... well, I kissed Dorothea on the cheek the day after you picked me up." Ciaran said, feeling very unsure where exactly this was going. "But we had our first proper kiss yesterday after I came back from the Settlement."

Sitting on her chair, the young man watched with a slight bit of trepidation as Euphemia processed what she had just been told, nodding her head to whatever was going through her head. After a few seconds spent in a frankly uneasy silence, the Third Princess nodded her head once more before looking up and smiling at the two of them.

"I did tell you, Ciaran." Euphemia said with a happy smile, prompting a smile to come to Ciaran's face as he remembered his conversation with Euphemia the night after the Kitakyushu raid.

"You did, Euphemia. You really did."

The Princess nodded her head at her self-perceived victory before moving to stand closer to the seated duo. Reaching down, she gently took a hold of one of their hands and held them in her own.

"I'm just happy that two of my friends have found love, and even more so that they are in love with each other." Euphemia said sweetly, looking at the duo in front of her, which in turn caused the two to look at the young Princess fondly.

Taking her hands away from theirs, Euphemia clapped her hands together gently. "Well, it's nearly lunch time, so I shall see you two love-birds later."

Ciaran couldn't help but shake his head at the comment, due it sounding so weird to hear Euphemia say something like that. It sound so much more like something which Darlton would say...

Darlton...

"Euphemia, wait!" He called out as he surged to his feet, making Dorothea flinch in her seat and stopping the young Princess where she stood.

"Y-yes?" The pink-haired girl stammered out.

"Can... can you keep this just between us?" Ciaran asked. "We... still don't think we're ready to tell the others just yet."

Looking at him thoughtfully, Euphemia seemed to mull over the request before she nodded her head with a smile. "All right, Ciaran. I'll keep it quiet."

"Thank you, Your Highness." Dorothea said, nodding her head thankfully.

Euphemia didn't say anything else, only smiling at the two people in front of her before she opened the door and left the room. When the door was closed, Ciaran moved to the vacant chair and sat down in it, turning himself so he was looking at Dorothea as a large smile came to his face.

"One down." He said.

"Four to go." Dorothea responded, a smile of her own gracing her lips.

* * *

After lunch, Ciaran spent the majority of the afternoon in his room, trying to figure out what to pack in to the duffel bag he had chosen to take with him for the trip. Deciding that, if they were doing something with the new unit which would probably involve training, any civilian clothes were out of the question.

But then again, they were going to California. So he did pack a fairly large number of t-shirts in to his bag. He also put in a spare of his Royal Guardsman uniform in case of emergencies, although he doubted he'd be doing strenuous in the maroon uniform. Then after that, it was just a matter of packing several travel essentials: toothbrush, toothpaste, shower-gel and deodorant.

With everything packed, Ciaran exited his room and made his way down to the dining room to eat. As Cornelia had said, Villetta was there, dressed again in her deep purple tailcoat, sitting near Dorothea, whom she was deep in conversation with. Judging by the smile on both their faces, it must have been something good.

"Good evening to you, Lady Villetta." He said, moving to take his seat next to Darlton, who was already sipping on a small china cup of tea. Looking around quickly, Ciaran saw that the only people not present were Cornelia and Guilford.

"And good evening to you, Ciaran." Villetta responded with a smile. "Are you ready for our trip?"

Ciaran couldn't suppress the chuckle that came to his throat. "You make it sound like we're going for a beach holiday."

"It'll be nose to the grindstone when we get to California." Darlton quipped, raising his cup slightly, earning a nod from Ciaran and Villetta and a quiet "booo" from Dorothea.

Before anything else could be said, the door to the dining room opened and in walked Cornelia and her Knight, marking the start of the meal.

The meal itself was uneventful, being a course of honey glazed chicken with various vegetables, and nothing of note really happened, since it seemed that Nonette was so content with her victory at Rock, Paper, Scissors over Dorothea earlier.

After the meal and a few hours of down time, Ciaran, Darlton and Nonette collected their bags from their rooms and made their way to the designated meeting place; the Palace's smoking room. Inside, they found Villetta attempting to get the drinks dispenser to work. Beside the small table in the middle of the room, a duffel bag not to dissimilar to Ciaran's, apart from the crest of the Britannian Army, sat on the floor.

"Having a bit of trouble there?" Ciaran asked as he entered the room.

Giving the silver machine a slight slap, Villetta shook her head and sighed in exasperation. "I don't know why, but it's not giving me a drink."

Darlton shrugged as he set his own bag on the floor before sitting down. "Can't be helped. Shall we talk about what we're going to do for the next few days?"

At that, the remaining three moved to sit down in the chairs around Darlton as he began speaking. "Okay, so as you know, and I'm sure Villetta has been informed, we're going to the Sacramento Royal Air Force base in California to pick up the aircraft we're going to need for Ciaran's Fireforce protocol."

The young man couldn't help but grimace at Darlton calling it his protocol. It just... didn't sit right with him, but he kept his mouth shut as the general continued speaking.

"While we're there, along with making sure that the Valkyrs are still operational and making sure they undergo any necessary repairs if something is wrong, we'll also be practising the ins and outs of the Fireforce, for both on-the-ground tactics and getting the intricacies of the vertical envelopment tactic down pat."

Everyone nodded their heads in understanding. To his surprise, out of the corner of his eye, Ciaran saw that Nonette was paying extremely close attention to what Darlton was saying.

"What's going to be our flight-time?" Ciaran asked.

"Eleven hours, give or take," Darlton said; "So leaving at seven in the evening here would see us arrive at three in the morning in Sacramento, factoring in the time dilation between the places."

"Oh joy." The young man said in a deadpan voice.

"Something wrong, Ciaran?" Nonette asked.

"I can't sleep on planes." He said simply; "It's something I'm just incapable of doing."

A hearty slap on the back from Nonette nearly propelled him off of his chair. "That's because you've never travelled on the transports used by the Knights of the Round!"

Darlton let out a loud sigh as he put his hand against his forehead. "Oh, Nonette. What did you do know?"

"Nothing major." Nonette said nonchalantly. "I just told the guys who were going to fly us to the Homeland to leave their old rust-bucket at the airfield and to come and use the transport me and Dorothea came on."

Everyone in the room looked at the Knight of Nine in surprise, while she simply just smiled sweetly at them.

"That... that's very nice of you, Nonette." Darlton said in quiet shock.

"So it's settled then!" The champagne-haired woman said cheerfully. "Shall we get a move on then?

No-one else in the room said anything, only nodding their heads in mute agreement before they picked up their bags and left the room. As they walked down the corridor to the large hangar at the rear of the Palace, Ciaran and Darlton in the rear with Villetta and Nonette leading the way at the front, the two ladies making conversation at a normal level, which surprised Ciaran since there was not a single case of any inappropriate touching or phrases coming from the Knight of Nine.

Soon, they reached the large space of the hangar, probably almost the entire length of the Palace by the looks of it, with the same white and gold, hawk-like transport that brought the two female Knights of the Round to Area 11 over a month ago sitting ready on a runway, one it's side ramps down, ready to accept it's passengers.

"Let's saddle up, people!" Nonette cried out, almost skipping to the transport, the trio of officers following in her wake.

Climbing inside, Ciaran definitely saw that the transport was definitely something befitting the Knights of the Round: plush, leather upholstered seats, elaborate wooden tables, a wall-mounted TV screen and a drinks bar filled up the main space of the transport. The young man couldn't even begin to guess what else was in this aircraft.

"There's beds down to the side, there." Nonette said, pointing to a door leading towards the front of the aircraft as the group put their bags in overhead storage compartments. "So if you feel like you need to sleep, you can do so in there."

The intercom crackled to life. "Attention ladies and gentlemen. This is your captain speaking; we are almost ready to make out departure, so if you would please take your seats, we'll be ready for take-off."

"Well, let's get ready, everyone." Darlton said as he sat down in one of the chairs before buckling himself in. Quickly, the others followed his example, settling down in to their own chairs before buckling in.

It didn't take long for the intercom to crackle in to life again. "All right everyone. Prepare for take-off."

Even though he knew that the aircraft's frame would be soundproofed, it still took Ciaran by surprise when he heard the sound of the engines roaring in to life. They were a completely different noise to the sound made by the turbine engines of the Boeing 747s in his world. These were proper jet engines, as evidenced by the steadily building roar of the engines.

"Here we go." Nonette gave as a warning, before everyone was pushed backwards in to their seats gently as the aircraft built up speed as it moved down the runway before, with a quick burst of speed, it sped down the runway at full speed before a slight drop, indicating they had left the palace hangar and were now in the air.

"This is your captain speaking; we are now airborne. Flight-time will be around ten hours, due to flying with the jet stream, so that will see us arrive in Sacramento, California, at roughly two o'clock in the morning local time." The pilot said. "We'll be ascending to over twenty thousand feet and be maintaining that altitude throughout the entire flight. So please sit back, relax and enjoy the amenities we have to offer."

And with that, Ciaran was on his way to the Homeland.

* * *

 **AN: Chapter 22 is up! And with that, A Brave New World is over a year old! Over 200,000 words, 188 faves, 215 followers and 134 reviews. All I can say is... wow. Seriously. I never thought I'd be able to accomplish something like this, and I sure as hell did not think that it would garner the amount of support and love it has, let alone get a fanon Wiki and a TvTropes page (the latter of which still needs work, so please, please, PLEASE, help with that if you can). So again, thank you, everyone. It means a lot.**

 **Won't talk about life since it's really kind of Same Shit, Different Day really. Working on getting back-owed money from the government is annoying.**

 **Anyway, for the story, I tried to do something to kind of hint at the situation in Japan under Britannian rule, but also kind of... well, tone it down a little bit. I really think that CLAMP kind of went overboard a bit with how the showed the Britannians, and I want to show that in future chapters. I did also get some ideas from A Cold Calculus, which is a very good Code Geass story, I'll be honest. Several leagues better than mine, I'll say with all honesty.**

 **Also, still having trouble writing anything romantic, but I think I'm getting better. It's just practice, that's all.**

 **And that's all I have to say.**

 **As usual: read, review, enjoy. Please help out on the TvTropes page if you can. And until next time, as Nonette said: "Toodles!"**


	23. Chapter 23

If there was one universal truth that Ciaran knew, it was this: transcontinental trips were hell.

Sitting in the part of the train terminal set aside for VIPs, the young Briton felt like a member of the undead. He had been right that he had been unable to sleep on the transport plane from Area 11, being one of the only people to remain awake throughout the journey. Darlton had managed to get the two Ladies to play a game or two of cards with them, teaching the young man how to play Texas Hold 'Em, but in the end, Ciaran was up by himself for almost practically the entire flight when everyone had tried to fall asleep, leaving him to play solitaire until they landed.

The two o'clock arrival time at Sacramento International airport wasn't too bad. He'd arrived at later times when coming back with his family from holiday, but this time, he didn't have to waste time waiting to collect his luggage, simply just having to pick it up from beside his seat before exiting the aircraft. Due to the late hour, and the fact the none of the passengers had anything close to actual sleep, they agreed unanimously to go to a nearby hotel before catching the train from the airport that would take them to the vicinity of the Sacramento Air Force Base.

"Why didn't we just go straight there, sir?" Ciaran had asked to the Darlton as they travelled to the chosen hotel in a taxi cab, Villetta and Nonette following in another taxi.

"Would you want someone to handle high-end military equipment without sleep?" Darlton asked, making Ciaran simply shake his head in reply, too close to falling asleep in the taxi to give an answer.

The hotel chosen was nothing spectacular, being a simple Holiday Inn, although since they were only staying for the night, none of them really cared. The quartet was split between two rooms; the two women in one and the two men in the others. The separate beds were a godsend, being so much more comfortable than the seats in the taxi or the aircraft, although that could just have been because the young man was dog tired. So it was with great delight that Ciaran stripped down to his underwear and t-shirt and climbed under the covers to get a good night's rest...

If it wasn't for the fact that his roommate was a snorer. A loud snorer. If he had to give a comparison, Ciaran would say that, in his sleep, Darlton sounded very much more like one of those industrial sized chainsaws they used to fell large trees.

This went on for... the young man had honestly no idea how long it lasted for. The only thing he knew with certainty was that all told, he did not get that much sleep at all.

So, as it were, the young man was sitting in one of the couches and tables in the Sacramento train station's VIP section, looking decidedly haggard and very grumpy, his dark hair and circles under his eyes making him look quite nasty. Although the tawny skinned woman sitting beside him wasn't that bothered in the slightest.

"Come on." Villetta said, leaning her head against an upraised arm. "He couldn't be that bad."

Turning his head to the side, Ciaran fixed his second-in-command with an unamused stare.

"All right. I'll take your word for it." She replied with a shrug while a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Ciaran didn't say anything in reply, as he was currently torn between either wanting to fall asleep or to fight it and remain awake.

In his current state, he couldn't pay much attention to anything else outside of his immediate surroundings. So it was definitely a surprise when he saw the forms of Darlton and Nonette filling his vision. Looking up, Ciaran saw that the general had an apologetic look on his face, and twin cardboard cups of coffee in his hands, while the Knight of Nine had her hands behind her back.

"I got you a cappuccino." Darlton as said as he extended his right hand towards Ciaran.

"Plenty of cream, plenty of sugar?" The young man asked, taking the cup from the general and removed the plastic cover to see the off white foam sitting on top.

"Yeah, no problem." The general said, nodding his head as he took a seat across from Ciaran and Villetta.

"And I got you this." Nonette said, holding up a tall, blue and silver can with the logo of a red bull emblazoned on the front. Ciaran didn't say anything in reply. Instead he just timidly supped at his coffee, feeling just that bit more invigorated before he spoke up.

"I'll use that as a last case scenario, Nonette." He simply said before sipping from his coffee again.

"So what's the plan for when we get so the Air Base, General Darlton?" Villetta asked, leaning forward in her seat.

"Well, apart from going through security of course, we'll be heading straight to the commanders office. We'll meet Sergeant Major Reynolds there, then we'll go straight to the quartermaster's, where we'll pick up our new uniforms and equipment before we go and meet the fine men of Alpha company." Darlton said the last bit with a large grin, meaning something, but Ciaran wasn't in the right state of mind to guess what. But there was a pressing matter that the young man wanted to ask, and he guess that Villetta was curious for the answer too.

"We're getting new uniforms and equipment, sir?" He asked, leaning forward in his seat while gently holding the cup in his hands, to which Darlton nodded.

"By the Princess' order. You'll see what they are when we get there." Darlton replied, adding in a conspiratorial wink. "I think you'll like the result."

Ciaran was ready to reply but another bout of sleep nearly took hold of him, so he took another drink of his coffee.

Looking down at his watch, he saw there was still a good while until the train arrived so he just sat back in his chair and tried to finish his coffee and keep himself from nodding off completely. Luckily, that didn't end up happening as a number of loud voices came from a general direction behind him caught his attention.

"We are never doing that again." A young woman's voice, seeming to sound as tired as Ciaran was, groaned out before being joined by a young man's.

"Well, to be fair, it could have been worse. Remember Tink's birthday celebration?"

Another young man's voice, a voice that somehow managed to be incredibly peppy chimed in. "Hey! In my defence, that had nothing to do with me. That place was recommended to me, and I didn't make him choose the burritos!"

' _You overhear some really strange conversations at a train station._ ' Ciaran thought to himself as he took another drink from his cup.

So it really shouldn't have surprised him when Nonette's head snapped up to look at the group behind him and a smile came to her face. Quick as a flash, she sprung to her feet and yelled out. "Gino!"

Ciaran just looked at the Knight of Nine in confusion as she moved away from her seat and moved to approach the group. Turning in his seat, he watched as the champagne-haired woman merrily skipped towards the group of, as her had correctly surmised, three teenagers, all of whom were wearing a variation of the uniform of the Knights of the Round.

The first person, the one he guessed to be Gino, was the only boy of the group: a tall youth, probably around sixteen and standing definitely over six feet tall, dressed in the pale white and gold tailcoat of the Knights of the Round, matched with a black and gold waistcoat, white trousers and knee high black boots. He had blonde hair that hung in spikes to his ears while he had what looked like three separate braids hanging over one of his shoulders, while his eyes were a piercing shade of bright blue.

"Nonette!" The Knight yelled in reply before wrapping his arms around the shorter but older woman, then lifting her from her feet and spinning her around in a circle, forcing the people he was with to step back to avoid getting hit by Nonette's feet. "When did you get here? We thought you and Dorothea were in Area 11."

The champagne-haired woman was let down to her feet as she replied. "We were, but I came back to help a friend with a project. Here, let me introduce you."

Standing up from his chair, along with Villetta and Darlton, Ciaran let out a quiet sigh at this new turn of events. He was not in the best mood for this. But if it had to be done, it had to be done.

"Gino Weinberg," Nonette said, sounding a lot more dignified than the Briton thought possible before gesturing to them all; "Allow me to introduce you to Captain Ciaran Forsyth, Captain of Princess Cornelia's Royal Guard, Lady Villetta Nu, late of the Purist Faction and now Captain Forsyth's second-in-command, and and you already know General Darlton."

Turning to look at Ciaran and the others, she held a hand up to gesture at Gino behind her, who simply smiled. "Everyone, this is Gino Weinberg, the Knight of Three."

The three officers put their right arm across their chests in the way of greeting a Knight, but it surprised Ciaran when Gino let out a quick laugh.

"Hey, don't stand on ceremony with me, guys." The young Knight said, waving off the gesture with a goofy smile. "I'm on holiday, the same as Nonette here."

The Briton and the two Britannians visibly relaxed, but was then surprised when the blonde Knight advanced forward and quickly took his hand in a two-handed grip and began shaking his hand vigorously. "So you're the captain that Nonette told us about?"

"Oh, what did she tell you?" Ciaran said far too quickly and too tiredly for his own liking.

"Just how you chased after Zero, on foot, by yourself!" Gino answered, sounding incredibly impressed, even as he continued pumping his arms up and down. "I have to say; that sounds incredible!... for an old man."

The young man's face darkened slightly at the phrase, which made his visage look quite a bit more dangerous. "'Old man'?"

Gino's eyes widened in shock as Ciaran's grip tightened sharply on his hands, making them stop their handshake. Images of the young Briton lifting the Knight of Three over his head and throwing him on to the train track filled his mind, although in his current state, Ciaran wasn't one hundred percent sure if the images in his head were real or not.

Luckily, someone decided to cut in before a murder was committed in broad daylight.

"Okay, Gino, that's enough." The young woman's voice from before said, sounding a lot less tired now and a lot more stoic. "You know that's not the right thing to say to anyone."

The smile faded slightly from Gino's face as the first girl in the uniform of the Knights of the Round appeared behind the blonde Knight. She was short, shorter than Ciaran by a couple of inches and much shorter than Gino, with long blonde hair that reached down past her waist while framing her face with two long pigtails at the front and a short fringe which showed off a round face with expressive blue eyes making Ciaran quickly wonder if she and Gino were related. Her outfit consisted of a similar tailcoat to Gino's but instead of trousers, she wore a simply white skirt, completed with black knee-high, high heeled boots.

The girl stepped closer past Gino and held her hand out for Ciaran to take. "Greetings, Captain Forsyth. I'm Monica Kruszewksi, Knight of Twelve. It's a pleasure to meet." She said warmly, before shooting a pointed glance at Gino. "As _someone_ should have said."

To his credit, Gino made an attempt to look guilty, which didn't really work on his smiling face, making him look like a kid who was caught stealing a cookie but didn't really care.

Taking her hand, Ciaran did the same as he did when he met Dorothea: he took a gentle grasp of her offered hand, turned it over and pressed his lips to her hand. "A pleasure, Lady Kruszewksi."

As he let go of Monica's hand, Ciaran heard a loud huff come from Nonette, making him turn his head to look at the Knight of Nine, who had a decidedly annoyed look on her face.

"What?" He asked.

"Why didn't you do that with me the first time we met?" She replied, crossing her arms across her bust while she directed a pout at Ciaran.

Ciaran wasn't quite sure what to say as he stared at Nonette in mute shook. So he said the only thing he could. "You mashed my face in to your boobs!"

As soon as he realised what he said, the young man let his head drop in shame, expecting to be scolded by someone.

"So she does that you too?" He heard Monica ask, sounding a little bit relieved at the fact, which surprised Ciaran as he turned his head to look at her in confusion before she explained. "She likes to do it to people that she finds cute. Or are just shorter than her. Right, Anya?"

The sound of a camera shutter clicking rapidly filled the air, startling Ciaran as he looked at the final, and possibly the strangest person of the group (which was saying something).

"Recorded." The very young, light pink-haired girl said in a flat, monotone voice. She had her hair done up in a double ponytail, while a pair of short bangs framed her face, revealing that she had blood red eyes. Combined with her outfit, which seemed to consist of a black tube-top which covered her entire chest and neck, save for her arms, worn underneath a white tailcoat. Lower down, she wore the most literal example of a mini-skirt Ciaran had ever seen, coupled with pink thigh-high pink garter socks and a pair of black knee-high boots completed the outfit.

She couldn't have been more that fourteen or fifteen, and to be honest: that was just plain weird.

"Ah, let me introduce you!" Gino said, moving to stand behind the young girl, putting his hands on her shoulders before leaning down slightly, so his chin was just level with the tops of her ponytails. "This is Anya Alstreim, the Knight of Six. Cutie, isn't she?

Ciaran didn't know what to say, so he just bowed his head in greeting. "My lady."

The young Knight stared at the Briton for a few seconds, blinking once, then twice before she spoke. "You don't look like much."

He really had no idea what to say to that. Well, no, he did. It's just that the things he could say were not the sort of things that could be said in the company of nobility.

Luckily, Nonette managed to sense the mood and decided to take action. "Now, come on, Anya. You can't say anything about looks." She shot a pointed look at Anya, who for her part just simply looked blankly at the older woman before returning her attention to her camera phone. "Besides, what are you guys doing here?"

"Oh, did you forget?" Gino said, happily as he raised himself back to his full height with a broad smile on his face before moving to stand behind Monica, putting his hand on her shoulders. "It just so happens that it's a certain _someone's_ birthday, and we're heading over to San Francisco to celebrate!"

The look that came to the Knight of Nine's face could only be described as unbridled joy at the news, before she practically lunged at the blonde haired girl then wrapping her arms around her. "Why didn't you tell me, Monica? How old does that make you now?"

The blonde haired girl showed obvious reluctance to answer Nonette's question, but she ended up stammering out the answer anyway. "E-eighteen."

This caused a squeal of delight from the older woman as she tightened her embrace. "Perfect! That means you and I... can have some serious fun."

The last part of Nonette's sentence was said a with the sort of sultriness that somehow put a chill down Ciaran's spine. And it seemed to have the worst affect on Monica, who tried to beat a hasty retreat away from the Knight of Nine. 'Tried' being the optimum word, as Nonette had a tighter hold on her than she had thought. This resulted in the older woman holding Monica in a manner similar to a young child holding an adult cat, with Nonette's arms wrapped across her chest under her armpits so her arms stuck out in front of her.

At another point in time, Ciaran would have joined in the laughing that ensued from the Knight of Twelve's predicament, but his lack of sleep made him just look at the scene with dead eyed confusion.

"Something wrong, Ciaran?" Darlton asked, knocking against the young man's shoulder gently.

In reply, Ciaran pinched the bridge of his nose as he wiped his fingers across his eyes and stifled a yawn. "I'm just tired, sir. The coffee's done jack-shit for me."

Moving towards a nearby waste bin, the Briton let the cup fall from his hands in to the bin receptacle below before turning back to look at the scarred general.

"Any other way to keep you from falling asleep?" Darlton asked in a low voice as to avoid too much attention from the others.

"Reading something generally helps. Maybe I'll find a book-store or something." Ciaran replied after a few seconds pause, looking around him for the most likely location of their being a shop that sold books.

"Down the corridor, first right." Darlton said, gesturing down the same hall that the three junior Knights of the Round came from.

The young man nodded his thanks, then threw the general a quick salute, before making his way towards the corridor. Along the way, he realised how bad his sleep deprived state was as, not paying attention to where he was going, he accidentally shoulder-checked, or rather elbow-checked, the Knight of Six, making her cry out mutely in surprise.

"Oh crap!" Ciaran said quietly as he bent down nearer the girl he had accidentally bumped in to, not wanting to draw too much attention to the fact that he had inadvertently hit the young Anya. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." The pink-haired girl said, rubbing her arm in that reflex action nearly everyone seems to do when they suffer an impact on their arm, even as she still held her camera-device in her other hand. "Where are you going?"

"Just going to see about buying a book or something." Ciaran replied simply, shrugging his shoulders.

"All right then." The girl said as she closed the screen of her device and placed in a pocket at the back of her jacket.

Seeing that he had obviously not done any major damage to the young girl and also seeing that no-one had seen what happened, Ciaran stood back upright and began walking down the corridor.

* * *

Sitting inside the mind of the young Knight of Six, the disembodied spirit of the late Empress of Britannia, Marianne vi Britannia, let a smile come to her face, well, technically Anya's face, as she watched the British-born captain walk away from the group.

So this was the man that had gotten V.V.'s knickers in a bunch. Anya was right; he really didn't look like much. He looked very much like he had just dragged himself out of bed, at least with regards to his hair. The rest of his outfit was neat and tidy, she had to give him that. It definitely proved that he was one of Cornelia's guards, even if the maroon outfit wasn't a dead give-away.

But looking at him as she watching him walk away, Marianne couldn't figure out what had gotten VV worried enough to bring it up with Charles.

And yet, looking at the young man moving in to the busier part of the station, the soul of the deceased Empress definitely felt something... odd about him. She just couldn't place her finger on it.

"Are you all right, Lady Alstreim?" The tawny-skinned and silver-haired woman asked, a look of quiet concern on her face. Oh, what was her name again? Vivian? Victoria? Villetta!

"I'm fine, Lady Villetta." The young girl replied, Marianne having long mastered the ability to achieve mastery of the young girl's voice. "I'm just going to go use the bathroom."

The older female didn't question the young Knight, merely nodding her head before Anya left the group, travelling down the corridor that connected the VIP section to the main concourse, heading towards the various shops in the train station, trying to find the Briton. Luckily, it didn't take long. His military outfit made him stick out like a sore thumb in the midst of the various civilian outfits in the station. He was standing in front of a small book kiosk, letting his eyes roam over the numerous book titles on display.

"Captain Forsyth." Marianne simply said, taking the man by surprise as he jumped a little bit before spinning around to look behind him, then looking down as he realised who was talking to him.

"Oh, Lady Anya. Hello." He said, bowing his head. "Were you following me?"

Anya shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Maybe. I didn't want to stick around listening to Gino and Nonette talking about parties."

Forsyth nodded his head in understanding. "I hear that. Nonette's a good friend of mine, in fact I'd say she's like a sister to me, but damn, she cannot half waffle on about nothing."

That took Marianne by surprise, the blood-red eyes opening wide slightly. Only one other person, apart from Nonette, had ever spoken that bluntly around her, and that was that mad bastard Luciano. And yet, there was no hint of annoyance in his voice.

"That was bluntly put." She said, quickly getting over her shock. It filled the older woman's soul with joy to see the man realise what he had just said, his face taking on a slight shade of red as he realised what he had just said and to whom.

"Ah, sorry. Neither Nonette or Dorothea really bother with that sort of etiquette around me, so I... kind of forget."

The giggle that came from Anya was not something that she would normally do, but when Marianne was in control, it happened more often than not.

"It's all right." Anya said, waving a hand slightly. "I'll pretend it didn't happen. So, are you looking for any book in particular?" The small Knight moved closer to the book stand, her own eyes looking over the numerous titles and covers.

Getting over his initial shock, Forsyth turned back to resume his perusing of books on display. "Well... anything with a good plot really. Although anything to do with military or history is a plus for me."

Marianne nodded Anya's head as she took in the man's answer. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she looked the man up and down before her eyes settled on what was attached to his belt at his right hip. The brown leather holster and white ivory pistol grip stuck out sharply against his trousers.

"Bit of a faux pas, isn't it?" The Knight of Six asked, letting her eyes linger on the weapon openly on display. "Bringing a weapon in to a crowded area?"

Quickly tacking on to Anya's words, Captain Forsyth turned his head to look at the diminutive Knight. They simply stared at each other before a smile spread across the man's lips. "'Walk softly, and carry a bit stick' as my granddad used to say."

Marianne looked at the man sceptically as she digested his words. So, he was a member of the old order; those whose minds only cared about violence. Granted, it should have been obvious since he was with her daughter-in-law's Royal Guard, but still.

"Do you not think it's wrong? To kill people?" Anya asked, turning her attention to the books in front of her.

"Oh, it's wrong, all right." He replied, catching her by surprise. "It's one of the worst sins imaginable."

Okay, so that was not what Marianne had expected to hear, but it filled her with a bit of hope as he continued talking. "War is a hell, but it's a hell that we make for ourselves, often times for the best cause."

That certainly intrigued the woman. "And what cause is that?"

"Peace, of course." Captain Forsyth said bluntly, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Anya arched an eyebrow at what he said, obviously not expecting him to say that. "That... isn't that an oxymoron? Fighting to bring peace?"

The man simply shrugged in reply. "That's just the way we humans are. It's the duality of man: we want peace, but we're willing to fight for it."

The diminutive woman looked at the man again, mulling over what he had said in her mind. It was admittedly quite rare to hear anyone talk like that in the higher circles of Britannian society. But then again; this man was British and he was a soldier, so it would make some sense that he would hold a differing opinion to the higher ups.

Maybe... could she?

It was worth a shot.

"Captain, can I ask you something?" She asked.

"Of course." The man replied, even as he picked up a book from the row of shelves in front of him and turned it over to the look at the rear cover blurb.

"Well... if you knew someone who was able to, or claimed they were able to, make all fighting in the world stop, would you join them?" She asked innocently, like she was asking him how she'd look in a dress (back when Marianne had an actual figure to speak of. God, how she missed her figure).

Looking up from the book in his hands to look at the Knight of Six, Captain Forsyth's eyebrows furrowed in confusion before a disbelieving smile came to his face and he chuckled slightly. That made Anya arc an eyebrow at him.

"You're not the first person to ask me that. And my answer in reply is: how would they go about making peace? Like, is this person really seeking peace or are they just doing this for their own personal gain?"

The pink-haired Knight furrowed her eyebrows at the man beside her, as he continued speaking, his voice taking on a more darker tone.

"I've seen too many people masquerade as freedom fighters, then they turn around and become the same tyrants they sought to get rid of. So my response to your question? Not a fucking chance."

Marianne really should have seen that coming, but she had to fight against the urge to laugh at what the man had said. Oh, how she missed the candour of the common people.

"Language, sir!" The shop owner said, looking up from what he was doing behind the shop's counter in shock.

"Sorry, sorry." The captain said, putting his hands up defensively, before handing the book to the proprietor. "I'll take this please."

The older man behind the counter shot the officer a dirty look but took the book anyway before putting it through the scanner. Safely inside Anya's mind, Marianne shook her head in annoyance. Not at the young man's words, but at the fact that he had obviously had a conversation with C.C. about the same topic and she hadn't bothered to tell her. Sneaky cow...

"That'll be eight-ninety-nine, sir." The shopkeeper said, holding a hand out, in to which the officer put a ten pound note. After taking the note, the man behind the counter quickly tilled up the cash in the machine before handing the change back to the captain, along with his purchase inside a small paper bag. "Enjoy your book, sir."

Captain Forsyth nodded his head in thanks as he accepted the book before looking down at the small Knight of Six beside him. "Is there anything you want to get, my lady?"

Anya shook her head. "No. There's nothing that catches my fancy. What did you get?"

Opening the bag a bit wider, the Briton reached in to it and pulled out the book, showing the cover: a white, snowy landscape with a discarded and snow covered musket and sabre with the title written in blocky script: "Retreat From Russia: Napoleon's Folly" prompting Anya to nod her head. Both Marianne and the young girl had read the book before, so they knew the details of it.

"Good choice." She simply said.

The sound of rapid footsteps reached her ears, making her turn around. Behind her, she saw the tawny-skinned woman from before running up to them, a slight look of worry on her face.

"Ciaran!" Villetta called out, making the young captain turn around in surprise. "There you are!"

"What's up, Villetta?" The man asked, looking at the woman.

"Didn't you hear the announcement? The train is going to be here in five minutes. Let's go!"

A look of shock came to both Anya's and Captain Forsyth's face as they realised they had run out of time, the young man definitely more-so.

"Oh crap." He muttered to himself as he quickly stuffed his book back in to the bag before looking down at the Knight of Six. "I'm sorry, but I have to run, Lady Anya."

"Of course, of course." Anya said. "I'll hopefully see you again."

With that, Captain Forsyth quickly jogged to beside Villetta, who also began jogging back to the waiting area for the train, their conversation lost in the hustle and bustle of the station terminal. Watching their forms receded in to the crowds, Marianne watched through Anya's eyes before she slunk back in to the young girl's subconscious mind.

Inside the small area of the brain that the former Empress had set up for herself, Marianne began thinking back over what had happened. The man was obviously strong-willed. The fact that he had reacted so strongly to her question was a definite indicator that he was not some faceless peon. Plus the fact he was an officer in her daughter-in-law's Royal Guard showed that he had strong mental strength. That was doubly true if he knew Nonette well.

So getting him in to the Geass Order was out of the question. They couldn't have someone who was potentially a loose cannon in their organization.

But that still bought up the most important question: what was there about this guy that had gotten VV so pissy? The most she got from the guy was that he just felt a little... well, just weird. It was hard for to place why Marianne felt weird around him, but she definitely felt some strange about the Briton. She would have to talk to Charles about it.

At the same time, in the conscious world, Anya's mind came racing back to the front. Blinking her eyes on confusion, the diminutive Knight of Six looked around herself in confusion. She remembered being at the VIP section of the train station, then the next she was standing in front of a book kiosk.

"Not again." She mumbled to herself. Another blackout. And just when she had gotten a handle on them too.

Quickly digging in the pocket at the back of her jacket, she pulled out her camera and flipped open the screen to look at the most current photo she took. The image showed Gino and Monica (she easily remembered that: they had gotten off the high speed train from Pendragon to Sacramento for Monica's birthday) standing in front of a man in the uniform of Cornelia's Royal Guard, Ciaran was his name, while behind them stood Nonette, General Darlton and... what was her name again? Villetta.

Pressing a quick sequence of buttons, Anya brought up the information for the photo, showing that it had been taken just a little over five minutes ago. And she definitely remembered meeting all of those people, so that was a good sign.

What else could she remember?

She remembered... she remembered Nonette messing around with Monica again, then Ciaran accidentally bumped in to her on his way out of the VIP section then... she was here.

That was the most annoying thing about these blackouts: there seemed to be no particular incentive for them to happen. They happened at random events and times, and Anya could find no reason as to why they occurred at all.

"Anya? Anya, where are you?" She heard Gino's voice calling out for her. Turning around, the Knight of Six's eyes scanned the crowd quickly until she saw Gino's blonde mop of hair bobbing around, his head looking this way and that to find her.

True to form, Gino quickly found her, moving through the crowds to stand in front of her.

"There you are, Anya." He said, gleeful relief evident in his voice. "Are you all right? We were worried when you didn't come back with Captain Forsyth and Villetta."

"All right." Anya said flatly, looking back down at her phone as she began organizing her most recent photo.

The feeling of a hand being put on her head made her stop in her efforts. Looking up, she saw Gino staring at her, his face nearly lever with hers as he knelt down to look at her, concern clear in his normally joyful bright blue eyes.

"Did you have another blackout?" He asked softly, using the same phrase Anya used.

Looking back down at her phone, the only thing she could do was nod her head, earning a sigh from Gino.

"Gah, and we were doing so well with it, too." The older boy lamented, sounding genuinely upset at the news.

Anya let a thin smile come to her lips, even as she continued sorting her photos. It was probably that he was closer to her age than anyone else she knew, but Gino took her problem in stride. All of the older nobles saw it as a liability and a sign of weakness. Yet he didn't mind. He cared about her when so many others saw it as the young girl merely wanting to get attention. It seemed that is was only Gino, and also Monica as well, that saw Anya's blackouts for the problem they really were, and they both tried their hardest to help her out.

"Can you figure out what caused it?" Gino asked, earning a shake of her head from Anya.

"No. Not yet."

The blonde boy nodded his head in understanding before pushing himself to stand on his feet, letting out a sigh as moved to his full height. "Well, we'll figure it out soon enough. Come on, let's head back. Monica's waiting for us."

Giving one last look at her camera, Anya nodded her head before shutting the device and pocketing it. "All right then."

Soon, the pair were walking together through the crowded train terminal.

* * *

Tugging at the collar of his new uniform, Sergeant-Major Nicolas Reynolds tried his best to remain calm as he stood outside the entrance of the commander's office at Sacramento Air Force Base. The heat, settling in the high twenties, was normal for late summer in California, especially so in the Sacramento area, but Reynolds had been in worse heat.

Looking to his side, he saw the form of his immediate superior, Lieutenant Nathaniel Fick, standing at an apprehensive version of parade rest, his hands behind his back even as he swayed gently on his feet in a nervous habit.

Like Reynolds, Fick was dressed in the new uniform Alpha company of the 200th Imperial Princess' Pathfinders were issued with for their new roles; woodland brush-stroke camouflage consisting of black, brown and tan strokes over a green base. The man had to admit that it was a bit of a change. Britannian military doctrine heavily favoured rapid strikes by mechanized and armoured infantry supported by close air support and Knightmares. In those sorts of blitzkrieg assaults, camouflage was considered unnecessary. Although it would be wrong to say that some units in the Britannian armed forces went without camouflage. The best examples being the Special Air Service, Special Boat Service, the Pathfinder battalions and the Imperial Marine Commandos. Even the Rifles, the first regiment to use rifled muskets, still retained their simple dark green uniforms as camouflage.

It made sense for the infantry to wear the uniforms, sure, but Reynolds still wasn't really sure why the man standing across from him, wearing the spring green beret of the Britannian Army Air Corps, was wearing the same uniform.

"Any word on when General Darlton's party is coming in, Mr Fick?" The man, Lieutenant Gregor Walker, Reynolds reminded himself, asked, shifting his arms to cross over his chest. Like the sergeant-major, he was a tall man, but more lithe, with a thinner face which was pockmarked by acne scars that lined the upper part of his cheeks from when he was younger. Ginger haired and green eyed, the man was habitual frowner, but he did the job well, of that there was not doubt.

Pulling the cuff of the sleeve on his left arm back, Lieutenant Fick looked at his watch. "They should be here in five minutes."

Fick was a relatively new officer, one of the latest batch to come from Dartmouth Imperial Officer's Academy. He had served with Princess Cornelia's 72nd Armoured Infantry Division in the conquest of Area 18, acting as force reconnaissance for the main invasion before being brought over to Area 11 to bolster the former island nation's defence force. He was young and stood a few inches shorter than Reynolds and with a slightly thinner build. His hair was a light-brown colour, while his light green eyes, framed in a round, boyish face without a hint of facial hair which, funnily enough, made him look younger than Captain Forsyth, even though he was twenty-five to the captain's twenty-one.

But that was the Britannian military for you. Between the purchase of commissions by nobles and the incredibly rare battlefield commissions, it was possible to have a captain who was only in his mid-twenties giving commands to sergeants who were almost twice their age.

"Feeling nervous, Gregor?" Fick asked, shooting the army aviator a small smile.

In reply, the other man simply shrugged, although it made Reynolds smile at how flat the gesture was. "I just want to find out what all of the secrecy is for. That's all, Nate."

Removing his dark blue beret, Reynolds ran his hand through his hair before replacing the headgear. Out of the three people present in the foyer of the base commander's office, the sergeant-major was the only one who had been made privy to the plans, in complete departure from standard military procedure, and it made the man feel very nervous as he had been sworn to secrecy. On order's of the Second Princess no-less.

Another small smile came to Fick's lips. "Don't worry, Gregor. It'll be worth the secrecy. I'm assured of this."

The sergeant-major chuckled lightly at the lieutenant's faith.

The sound of a vehicle pulling up outside the building caused the three officers to stop talking and stand ready to move to attention. Looking past the glass door, Reynolds saw the form of a dark green transport Jeep idled outside the building, it's doors opening as four passengers exited the vehicle, two men and two women.

"Here we go, gentlemen." Reynolds said as Lieutenant Walker moved to stand next to him and Fick.

They watched Captain Forsyth, dressed in the same maroon uniform as General Darlton, opened the door and held it open to let the general and Lieutenant Villetta through the door, followed by the Lady Knight of Nine.

"This is taking a weird turn all ready." Walker said flatly as he saw the group enter the foyer and come up to stand in front of the little group.

"General Darlton, sir." Lieutenant Fick said, standing smartly to attention with Walker and Reynolds before saluting the tall scarred man.

"At ease, gentlemen." Darlton said, returning the salute, before smile softly at the two lieutenants. "So, apart from Sergeant-Major Reynolds, do you two know why you're here?"

"No, general." The army aviator replied, shaking his head, while to his side Lieutenant Fick shook his head as well.

"All right then." Darlton said, before turning to look at the youngest officer behind him. "Sergeant-Major Reynolds already knows who this man is, but let me introduce the both of you to the mastermind of this whole idea; Captain Ciaran Forsyth."

The young man stepped forward as the three Britannian officers raised their hands to their heads in salute before the captain did the same, then he began shaking the hands of the two lieutenants as they introduced themselves to him.

When he moved in front of him, Reynolds couldn't help the chuckle that came to his throat as he looked at Ciaran; he looked incredibly haggard, even though some attempt was made to freshen himself up, although it did very little to make him look better.

"I don't mean to be rude, sir, but you look like shit." Reynolds said, trying and failing to keep the laughter out of his voice.

In reply, Captain Forsyth only shrugged before he spoke. "I have been up for nearly thirty hours now, and have also had to put up with General Darlton's snoring. So you're excused for making that statement, sergeant-major."

"You're never going to let that go, are you, Ciaran?" The general said with a sigh before suddenly remembering. "Oh. I also forgot to introduce you to Ciaran's second-in-command, Lieutenant Villetta Nu."

Stepping forward, the tawny-skinned woman that Reynolds had met in the captain's office, dressed in the same outfit as she wore yesterday, threw up her right hand in salute as the three officers copied the gesture before they began introducing themselves properly.

"So how long until we meet the base commander?" Darlton asked, looking at Lieutenant Fick. In order of precedence in the Britannian Armed Forces, the Army Air Corps was below the regular Army, having been formed from several squadrons that fought in support of the Britannian invasions of Europe during the Second Euro-Britannian War, formed from aerial observers, glider borne infantry, paratroopers and even special forces. While the glider infantry were eventually phased out and the paratroop battalions were amalgamated in to a separate parachute regiment, their use was minimized to a support role for the regular infantry through direct fire-support and transport.

"We were told ten minutes, sir." The boyish officer said in reply.

"More than enough time." Captain Forsyth said, looking around him at the corridors that lead out from the foyer. "Where's the closest bathroom?"

"I'll show you the way, captain." Reynolds said, gesturing down one of the corridors, motioning for the young man to follow him.

"I'll be back in two minutes." The captain said to Darlton before he began following the tall sergeant-major down the hallway. It didn't take long before the pair reached one of the buildings bathrooms. Entering the room, Reynolds watched as his soon-to-be commanding officer immediately went straight to one of the sinks that lined one of the walls and flipped up the tap to fill the porcelain bowl with cold water. He watched with confused interest as the young man removed his maroon tunic and his under-shirt, leaving him in only his trousers and a t-shirt, before cutting off the tap, having the bowl filled up almost all the way to the overflow with cold water.

"What are you-" Was all Reynolds managed to say before Captain Forsyth quickly and abruptly dunked his head in to the sink, keeping his head under the water for several seconds.

The older man had no idea how to react to what he had just seen. He thought to call out to General Darlton for help while rushing forward to pulling the young man out of the water before the captain brought his head out of the water just as abruptly, taking in a sizeable lungful of air.

"Just what I needed." He said to no-one in particular, shaking water from his head before turning to look at the sergeant-major. "Get me a towel, would you, please?"

That was a benefit of visiting a base commander's offices: they were always better furnished and equipped than regular army offices. Taking a cotton towel of a wall-mounted rack, Reynolds handed it to the young man as he asked the question he had suddenly been dying to ask.

"Sir? What the hell was that?"

"Cold water treatment." The young man said like it was the simplest thing in the world as he dabbed at his face and neck with the towel in his hand before moving to dry off his hair.

It wasn't much of an answer, but looking at him, Reynolds could see that his captain looked just that bit more refreshed, so if it worked for him, he wouldn't fault it.

"Nervous, sir?" Reynolds asked as the young man finished drying his hair and let the towel hang around his neck.

"Just a bit." Came the reply.

Reynolds was not one hundred percent sure what to say at the moment, but looking at the young man, he was suddenly aware of the age difference between the two. Plus, the younger man was currently not wearing his uniform.

"Sir, may I speak freely with you for a few minutes?" He asked as stiffly as one expected of a sergeant-major.

"All right then." Captain Forsyth said with a little bit of reluctance.

"You have nothing to worry about, captain. Your plan won't use any resources that the army won't want to waste, so that's a good thing. You're also going to be using some of the best military operators outside of the special forces in the Britannian army, so you have nothing to fear about picking the wrong men for the job. And finally, you've had this plan backed up by General Darlton, one of the most well-respected generals in the Empire and the Second Princess herself. So what's there to worry about?"

The young man looked at his own reflection in the mirror. From his viewpoint, Reynolds couldn't tell what the look on his face was. It was either nervousness or... outright fear?

"I worry about the execution of it all." He said flatly. "Recent history has not been too kind to me."

"Narita?" Reynolds asked, to which the young man nodded.

"What do you know about it?" The Briton asked, not taking his eyes of his own reflection in the mirror.

"Not that much. I was with the reconnaissance group that cleared the mountainside of the civilians. We left the AO after that, then went on to standby. We only heard abut what happened with the Purists."

The young captain's head dropped at the name, his hands tightening on the sides of the porcelain sink, making Reynold's suck in air through his teeth.

"Now it all makes sense." The sergeant-major said. "Sorry, sir."

"No, it's all right." Captain Forsyth said, shaking his head. "But I'm sure you can understand why I'm not that excited about this whole thing."

Reynolds nodded his head in understanding. He knew that the young man was a good commander. The operation in Kitakyushu proved that; he took the reigns of command easily, and he was a brave officer, there was no doubt about that. But to suffer the loses that he suffered at Narita... no one so young should have had to go through something like that.

"Have you told General Darlton about this?" He asked. Reynolds knew he was overstepping his boundaries as a sergeant-major, but he had to ask.

"Princess Cornelia talked to me about it." The young man said, removing the towel from his neck and letting it sit behind the taps of the sink. "She said she went through the same thing a number of years ago."

Reynolds only nodded his head in understanding. If there was anyone who could talk him out of a potential funk, it was the Goddess of Victory.

"Well... no commander gets away with a perfect record." Reynolds said after a few seconds of silence. "The worst is behind you. Now you can look forward to the best."

Turning his head slightly, a smile on his face, the young man raised an eyebrow at the older man before, chuckling, he said in a sarcastic tone. "Thanks, _dad_."

Reynolds' eyes opened wide at the comment before he himself began chuckling as well. Neither person said anything, both chuckling too much, even as Captain Forsyth reached in and began draining the sink before making himself more presentable again, replacing his under-shirt and tunic, looking like an officer of the Second Princess' Royal Guard again.

Turning to look at the sergeant-major properly, the captain looked sternly at the taller man. "Let's get going."

Reynolds quickly came down from his chuckling fit, coming back to the parade ground image men of his rank were famous for. "As you say, sir."

Exiting the room, the pair made their way back to the foyer with the other officers and the Knight. As they drew closer, General Darlton smiled up at them.

"Now don't you look better." He said happily. "And just in time too. We'll be going to see the base commander in a few minutes."

"Oh, lovely." The young man said in a deadpan voice.

"Has to be done, Ciaran." The general said, smiling sympathetically at the young officer.

The group fell in to a quiet conversation, the junior officers asking about the flight over from Area 11, the groups run in with the Knights of Three, Six and Twelve then to unseasonably hot weather they were going through in Sacramento right now. It was all just bits of light-hearted banter to pass the time.

That didn't last long however as a middle-aged woman, dressed in the light blue-grey uniform of the Britannian army, complete with knee-length skirt, walked towards the group.

"Brigadier-colonel Thompson is ready to see you now." The woman said, which elicited a weary sigh from General Darlton.

"Something wrong, general?" Lieutenant Fick asked, giving a voice to the confusion on everyone's face.

"Upson Thompson." The scarred general said unhappily before turning to look at the young captain. "Get ready for your first lesson as a unit officer, Ciaran; how to deal with annoying superiors."

Darlton motioned for Villetta, Reynolds and Forsyth to follow him while the two lieutenants and the Lady Knight of Nine stayed where they were. As they walked to their destination, Darlton turned his head motioned for the Briton to walk beside him.

"Ciaran, let me do the talking. Upson's one of the worst officers you could meet, and I meant that in the most literal sense possible. He doesn't like officers who came up from the ranks, he does not like non-nobles and he certainly does not like non-Britannians. And he will make that very obvious."

Reynolds and Villetta both nodded their head at the general's words. The tales about Generals Upson Thompson's arrogance were legendary, as was the fact he was one of the most unpleasant officers to work under.

To the surprise of nearly everyone there, the Briton simply shrugged. "I'll deal with it in my own way, sir. You can trust me on that."

The three officers shared a disbelieving look at the proclamation but didn't say a word as they made their way to the commander's office.

It was a short trip to the room labelled 'base commander's office', with the same woman from before standing outside.

"Brigadier-colonel Upson will see you now." She said before opening the door to let the assembled officers in to the room. Casting a quick glance around the room, Reynolds took in what he saw; it was as one would have expected of an office for a high ranking officer: a large window faced out over the currently quiet parade ground and the other buildings that made up the complex, while letting in copious amounts of natural light. In front of the window sat a large wooden desk, covered in all of the things one would imagine to find in such an important office. To the side of the room, there was an ornate wooden drinks cabinet, although at the moment, it was quite sparse.

Although looking at the man standing in front the window, the sergeant-major had an inkling why.

"General Darlton." Brigadier-colonel Upson Thompson said coldly. The commander was a tall man, the same height of both the general and Reynolds, although he was probably closer to the age of the former than the latter. The man's face definitely showed his age more, with the numerous wrinkles around his eyes, which even his sandy blonde head of hair and beard couldn't detract from. His uniform consisted of a pair of grey trousers tucked in to black jackboots and a forest green, double breasted coatee with gold epaulettes and trim, while a white cravat completed the outfit. In a gloved hand, he held a half-filled scotch glass. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Reynolds saw Darlton stiffen his stance slightly, seeming to ignore the insult at not being given the courtesy of a salute, but then again, the man's arrogance was legendary among the rank and file of the Britannian army.

"Brigadier-colonel," The general said flatly, ignoring the man's lack of respect; "I'm sure you know why I'm here."

Thompson took a swig from his shot glass, grimacing at the taste. "I do. You want to use my base as the training ground for this... _new unit_." The man practically spat out the words. "So... are you going to be the leader of this new force? Or do you have some peon doing the work for you?"

Reynolds felt himself bristle at the brigadier-colonel's attitude. But to his side, it didn't look like Captain Forsyth had any such problems with the older man's words, as he stepped forward and presented himself with a salute. "That would be me, sir. Captain Ciaran Forsyth, of Her Royal Highness, Princess Cornelia's Roy-"

A loud "tch" filled the air, cutting the Briton's speech in half. "Who the hell is this? He's not a noble. He's not even a Britannian."

"He just said." Darlton answered. "Captain Forsyth, captain of Cornelia's Royal Guard. He's also the young man who has put forward the idea for the new doctrine we will be testing out."

Thompson looked at the young man before a sneer came to his face. "Him? He's the person who Cornelia chose for this?"

"I'm the man who created the concept we'll be finalizing here, brigadier-colonel." The young captain said flatly. "It's only obvious that the Second Princess would put me in command of this unit, sir."

The sergeant-major suppressed the smile that came to his face. Captain Forsyth had not let the older man's arrogant nature get to him and focused purely on the actual matter. Although from the look of Thompson's face, the joy was not universally shared.

"That may be so, but the Princess is not here. I am." The older man said icily. "That means I have the final say on what goes on-"

"Brigadier-colonel." Captain Forsyth said, interrupting the older officer. "I am aware that you would b reluctant to let someone as young as me being given command of an experimental unit in your base, and I would too." The noble looked ready to speak, but the captain wouldn't let him as he continued speaking. "But with all due respect, sir, that's not your choice to make. Princess Cornelia has given us an order, and by extension, she has given you one too. And I very much doubt that she would like to hear that her plan to bring peace to an Area of the Empire was stopped because of a senior officer having a hangup over the fact that the commander of the new unit isn't a Britannian. Sir."

Okay, that time, Reynolds definitely couldn't suppress the smirk that came to his face. The captain practically had Brigadier-Colonel Thompson by the balls. No-one in the military could go against an order from the Second Princess. No-one, unless they wanted _really_ piss her off.

Thompson took in a deep inhale of breath before downing the last of the drink in his glass, scowling at the young Briton as he did so. "I cannot go against the orders of the Second Princess. But I will not trust my airbase to the likes of someone like you."

"Upson." Darlton said, looking at the man in front of him. "As a general, I can order you to give us the use of the airbase. I would prefer not to do that."

The air in the room dropped a few degrees as the two senior officers faced each other down, neither one giving ground on their claims. Although it was obvious to anyone that Darlton was in the right here.

Letting out a deep sigh, Thompson turned around to look out of the window, putting his shot glass down on to his desk. "Fine. Just try not to break anything important."

To his side, Reynolds watched as a broad smile spread across Darlton's face before the general nodded his head. "Thank you, Upson."

Beside him, Captain Forsyth pulled a face as he stuck his tongue out at the older man's back, which earned him a small hit to the side of the head from Darlton, who glowered slightly at him in annoyance.

"Thank you, sir." The young man said reluctantly.

Not turning around, the green-uniformed nobleman simply waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, prompting the four officers to exit the room and enter out in to the hallway, where they met the two lieutenants and an expectant Lady Nonette.

"We didn't hear any shouting." The champagne-haired Knight said in a worried tone as the door shut behind them. "Is everything all right?"

In return, General Darlton put a large hand on to Captain Forsyth's shoulder, a smile on his face. "It seems that our young friend here knows how to deal with bullies."

In reply, the Briton just shrugged before the general continued speaking. "Well, since we have kindly been given the use of the base for our new unit, let's get in to our new uniforms. Miss Villetta, you should come with me and the captain to get your new uniforms."

Turning to look at the sergeant-major and the two lieutenants. "You three should get the men together. Once Captain Forsyth and Lieutenant Villetta are in the same uniforms as the rest of us, we'll meet up in the main briefing room. Ten minutes."

"Yes, sir!" The three men replied, standing to attention as they snapped off salutes.

"What about Nonette?" The captain asked.

Reynolds looked at the Knight of Nine then to the general as the man tried to figure out what to do with her.

"It's been a while," Nonette suddenly said, sounding quite thoughtful. "But I think some of the people I used to the Academy with are stationed here. I might see if I can go and track them down."

The scarred general nodded his head at the idea, but Captain Forsyth looked quite sceptical. "Just don't hurt anyone, okay?"

An offended look came to the champagne-haired woman's face. "I am shocked that you would even think of me like that, Ciaran! You know me."

"I do. That's why I said that." The young man said with a very straight face, which earned an incredulous glare from Lady Nonette, which quickly shifted in to a goofy smile.

"Well, all right. I'll be off then." The woman said before turning around walking down the corridor.

"You do know what time we start the briefing at right? In briefing room one?" The captain asked after her.

"Of course!" Nonette yelled out in reply before she disappeared around a corner.

As the form of the Knight of Nine vanished, Lieutenant Fick turned to look at General Darlton. "By your leave, general?"

"You have ten minutes, Mr Fick." The older man said.

Reynolds and two lieutenants threw their hands up to their heads in a salute, which the general copied, prompting the three junior officers to turn and walk down the corridor before heading to the exit.

"Well. This is going to be interesting." Lieutenant Fick said as the trio exited the building and travelled across the parade ground and heading towards the barracks that held the men of Alpha company, specifically Blenheim barracks.

The building was a large piece of architecture, built from white limestone and red bricks in a style reminiscent of post-Flight Britannian architecture, which in itself was a mix of Renaissance-era architecture and the colonial styles brought over to the American continent. It was an enormous building, capable of holding three full regiments of infantrymen. It was the perfect symbol of Britannian military strength: large, imposing and unbreakable.

"Interesting is right, sir." Walker said as Reynolds held the door open for the two lieutenants. "But we'll still have to see how it goes."

As the trio entered through the door, the army aviator turned to look at the older man. "Sergeant-Major, you worked with Captain Forsyth in Area 11. What kind of man is he?"

Closing the door behind him, Reynolds cast his mind back to that night in Kitakyushu. The young man had led the men in to the docks against the corrupt elements of the police and then against the Black Knights when they had appeared unexpectedly. He had lead the men with a skill and zeal that could only come from working under Princess Cornelia and General Darlton.

It was also true that the man had frozen up when he had first killed a man, which was to expected since it was his first time in combat. Yet he didn't let it stop him in carrying on with the mission.

"He doesn't look like it, but he's strong. He is young, yes, but he's a good combat leader." Reynolds said truthfully and earnestly. "I trust him."

Fick and Walker looked at the sergeant-major before they both nodded their heads and continued walking down the corridor. It was a truth in the Britannian, in fact in probably any army, that a sergeant-major was the one of the oldest men in a regiment, so if he said that he trusted an officer, then his word was as good as gold.

But the look of unease still remained on the lieutenant's faces, so Reynolds carried on. "I know you know this, but I have served with him before. He's a front-line commander, the same as any of us, but he's also got brains. He's also from the same, lower class background as myself, so I can easily imagine he'll get on well with the men. Plus, since he's got the ear of General Darlton and the Second Princess, I think that we won't shit-canned any time soon."

That earned a chuckle from the two officers as their fears were abated.

"I'll go get my men together." Walker said, nodding his head to his fellow officer. "I'll see you at the briefing room, Nate."

"The same to you, Gregor." The blonde lieutenant said in reply before the army aviator walked away from the pair of infantrymen until he walked around a corner and disappeared out of sight.

"Shall we get the men together, Mr Fick?" Reynolds asked, to which the younger man nodded his assent to do.

"Do you think that this whole thing will be worth the wait?" Fick asked as the pair of officers walked down the corridor toward the barrack room that held Alpha company before the stopped outside the door of the small corridor that led the rooms. Like many Britannian army barracks, each company was sectioned off in their own area, keeping the men closer together to make it easier for the companies and regiments to be mustered quicker.

Standing outside the door, the sergeant-major thought back on what Captain Forsyth had told him back in Area 11 about the new unit and how it would be operating. And he had to admit: it all sounded fun.

"It'll be more than worth it, sir." The man said, nodding his head and grinning slyly at him. "I'm assured of it."

Fick looked at him in surprise before chuckling.

"I'll hold you to that, sergeant-major." The lieutenant said before he opened the door and yelled out; "Alpha company! Muster up. Platoon sergeants to me!"

The sergeant-major stopped and watched as Fick paced down the corridor, repeating his order for the platoon sergeants to come to him. Almost immediately, three men, dressed in the same woodland camouflage fatigues as himself and Fick, came to stand near the lieutenant to receive their orders.

"I'll get Alpha platoon ready, sir!" Reynolds called out, looking at the junior officer, who nodded in reply, prompting to older man to move towards the closest door.

Opening the door to the room quickly and loudly, the sergeant-major walked down the space between the two rows of beds that held the Alpha platoon of Alpha company of the 200th Imperial Princess' Pathfinders, each one containing one of the twenty-four men that made up the platoon. At the limits of his hearing, the sergeant-major could hear the other platoon sergeants doing the same thing to their platoons.

Even though he was now the company's sergeant-major and could have easily let the platoon sergeant do this task, he chose to do it himself just to keep himself in practice.

"On your feet, you bastards!" He roared as he stalked along the length of the beds. "Get dressed and line up outside the briefing room. Ten minutes! Let's go, ladies. Let's go!"

True to their professionalism, the men all sprang up from their beds, completely disregarding what they were originally doing. Books were put down, chess pieces were left where they sat and electronics were switched off and left on the beds. Like Reynolds, the other soldiers were dressed in the same woodland brush-stroke camouflage uniforms, although some had the jackets removed, which they now quickly donned.

"What's going on, sergeant-major?" One of the soldiers, a tawny-skinned man with black hair and glasses asked as he tucked his jacket in to his trousers.

"You'll find out when you get there, Garza. Now let's go!" Reynolds replied, motioning with his hand to get the men out of the room.

"Sergeant-major." A new voice from behind made the man turn around.

"Brad." Reynolds acknowledged the man with a nod of his head. Sergeant Brad Colbert was a tall man, with short blonde hair, blue eyes, all coupled with a strong Nordic face made him quite a handsome man. Which wasn't readily evident when his face was a blank mask devoid of expression, as it was now, which had earned him the moniker of 'Ice Man'.

"Scuttle-butt says that the reason we're here is because we're forming a new special unit. Any word on that, sergeant-major?" Colbert asked simply.

It was true that only ones that had been made aware of the purpose of the special unit were the captain, General Darlton, Lieutenant Villetta and Reynolds himself. All of the other soldiers had been kept in the dark. Even Lieutenants Fick and Walker were only told that they were going to the Homeland under Princess Cornelia's orders, but that was it. And the sergeant-major had been sworn to secrecy until either of the senior officers fully revealed the unit's purpose.

"You'll find out soon enough, Brad." Reynolds replied diplomatically, deigning not to say anything else to the sergeant.

Luckily, that seemed to mollify Colbert as he simply nodded his head and walked away to do whatever he was to do before the platoon was to be outside the briefing room.

Turning to look down the room, Reynolds yelled out again. "All right! You've got ten minutes. Move like you've got a purpose, ladies!"

It took five minutes.

* * *

The briefing room was a moderately sized room, about thirty feet in width and twenty five feet in length. All the seats, four rows of seats with connecting, foldable desks, sat on a series of raised platforms that went from the middle of the room to the back, with enough seats to sit an entire company of men with some seats left over. The wall directly facing the seats was filled up with a whiteboard-cum-projector screen, ten feet in length and four feet in height. Standing out against the white surface of the board stood two men in diametrically opposite uniforms: one in a woodland camouflaged uniform was working away with a pen while the other, in a maroon uniform, stood behind the first man quietly.

Watching as Ciaran drew the last part of his diagram on to the whiteboard, Darlton crossed his arms over his chest as took in the picture that the young man was drawing.

"Ciaran, don't take this the wrong way but you are no artist."

Turning from the board to look at the general, pen still held in his fingers, the young man looked at the general in confusion.

"It does the job though, right?" He asked, really unsure why Darlton said what he had said. "Besides, I never said that I was an artist."

The older man inclined his had to the side slightly in understanding as he watched Ciaran continue with his work. It was true that the Briton was certainly no Da Vinci, and yes, it also true that there was no necessity to be an artist when one joined the Britannian Army. Plus, the images that he was drawing; a more detailed depiction of the Fireforce in action, including the position of supplementary troops and equipment, the heights and distances of the aircraft and units, and other things, were made possible because the board was larger and Ciaran had had more time to prepare this time around.

But still, some facts need to be said.

"So, you nervous at all?" Darlton asked as he watched the young man finish up on the drawing of one of the gunships.

"Yeah, I'm nervous." Ciaran said as he capped the pen before turning to look at Darlton. "But, I'm a lot less nervous than I was when I had to give the presentation to you guys yesterday."

The general smiled warmly at the young man as he put down his pen and turned back to look at his work on the board. The seven foot long by three foot high board was almost covered in the numerous bits of information that the soldiers and other officers would need from the young Briton.

Walking forward, Darlton put a hand on Ciaran's shoulder, making the young man jolt a bit.

"I'm proud of you." The general said, nodding his head as he looked over the work.

This earned a confused look from the young man as he turned his head to look at the taller man. "You did just say it yourself, sir: I am no artist."

Darlton chuckled lightly at what Ciaran said. "No, that's not what I mean. I mean, I'm proud of all of this." He gestured to the whole of the board.

"It's not mine though. I'm... I'm just basically repeating what someone else has done." The young man said timidly.

"That may be so, but as you said in your document to myself, Guilford and the Princess, you were only working with the basic concept. And in less than a week, you've been able to refine the parts that you knew in to a usable concept, you incorporated equipment and vehicles that we Britannians have, and then... well, you create all of this." Again, Darlton gesture to the board in front of them, his other hand still remaining on Ciaran's shoulder.

The young man moved his head to the side in the universal manner that all teenagers and young adults knew to do that conveyed the fact that they heard what had been said, but didn't really care for it. Which in turn earned a soft smack to the side of the head from the general.

"You really should stop doubting yourself, Ciaran." Darlton said more softly. "You've done good work here. You should be proud."

The young man looked up at Darlton with the barest hint of a smile on his face before he turned back to looking at the board with a straight face. "I'll feel better when I know that it works, sir."

The general wanted to say something else, but decided against it. If that's what it took to get Ciaran to know that he really was as good as Darlton and the rest knew he could be, then so be it.

"All set?" He asked, moving to take a seat against the side of the room, out of the way of the presentation but still in a way that he could see both the board properly and the rest of the briefing room.

Taking a deep breath, Ciaran closed his eyes, letting the breath out steadily through his nose before opening his eyes. Turning his head to look at the general, he smiled. "I'm ready, sir."

Darlton nodded his head before the young man turned to look at the door, turning smartly on his heels as he stood to attention and called out smartly. "Miss Villetta!"

The door opened as the last syllable left Ciaran's mouth and the general watched as the door opened and the tawny-skinned woman stepped through, standing smartly to attention. "Captain?"

"Are the men assembled?" The young captain asked, earning a small smirk from Darlton. He was certainly fitting himself in to the role quickly.

"Yes, sir." Villetta replied just as smartly. "They are all gathered outside, sir. Officers included."

Ciaran nodded his head. "Good. Bring them in if you please, Miss Villetta."

"Very good, sir." The woman said smartly before about facing and walking to the door, then calling out to the men outside. "Company, fall in!"

More quietly than it would have been possible for over thirty men to accomplish, the men of the new unit filed in to the room, quickly filling the seats before sitting upright, their eyes fixed straight on the board and the young man standing in front of it.

Once everyone was seated and the lieutenant had closed and stood to side of the door, Darlton watched as Ciaran folded his hands behind his back and looked at the men in the room. "At ease, everyone."

The men relaxed gently in their seats, some moving to rest their arms against the tables while others, the non-commissioned officers and the two lieutenants, Darlton noted, remained sitting upright as the Briton began speaking.

"Before we begin, I am aware that apart from Sergeant-Major Reynolds, you have all been kept in the dark as to your reason for coming here." He said, letting his eyes scan the crowd. "So I won't bullshit you. I'll tell you the reason: the Second Princess, Cornelia li Britannia, has charged me with creating a new military unit to carry out a new military doctrine I have developed, one that will be capable of taking the fight to the enemy in Area 11."

Some subdued muttering came up from the seats, some soldiers turning to each other in surprise, while others leaned in closer, wanting to hear more.

"To Mister Fick and Mister Walker, I apologise for the secrecy." Ciaran continued, making Darlton smile softly. "It was necessary, and also mandated so by the Princess."

Turning his head slightly, the scarred general eyed the two junior officers as they looked at each other before nodding their heads.

"We understand, Captain Forsyth." Lieutenant Fick said, nodding his head gently. "Although we do hope that it was worth it."

"It will." The young man flashed a quick grin. "I promise you."

The general couldn't help but chuckle at Ciaran's words, the quiet baritone drawing a few looks from the men seated closest to him, although they quickly turned back to look at the captain as he moved towards the board.

"Right then," the young man began as he picked up a small laser pointer from below the whiteboard. "As you can see, the name of the new doctrine will be called-"

The sound of the door opening interrupted Ciaran mid-sentence as he and rest of the room turned their heads to see the distinctive champagne-coloured hair of the Knight of Nine poking her head through the gap she had created.

"Am I late?" Nonette asked innocently.

"By about a minute." Darlton said, waving his hand for the woman to enter.

"Sorry." The Knight of Nine said as she trotted over from the door and in to the space in the middle. "But I did run in to someone who I used to be in my old unit and we got to talking about all the stuff we did and-"

"Nonette, Nonette?" Ciaran said interrupting her, holding up his hands to stop her talking. "I just started the briefing. Can I please carry on?"

"But I-"

"Nonette," The young man said again, sounding more stern than before. "I know you want to talk about your friend, but I have to get this done. Understand? So please: sit down!"

From his angle, Darlton couldn't see the reaction on Nonette's face, but from the way she let her hands fall to her sides and the way her head slumped down slightly that the look the young man had given her was not a nice one.

Cowed in to submission, the Knight of Nine moved away from the Briton and came to sit down on the chair next to Darlton, putting one hand over another in a demure fashion. The general couldn't help but look at the woman beside him in surprise.

Looking at the young man, he saw that Ciaran didn't expect the result that came from him talking to the champagne-haired Knight.

"Nonette, I'm sorry." He said honestly, making her look up at him. "But you know I've not had a lot of sleep. So I'm sorry I snapped at you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Darlton saw Nonette look up at the young man silently before nodding her head, a tender smile on her face.

In turn, Ciaran nodded his head with a smile of his own, which quickly fell as he turned back to look at the assembled soldiers and spoke in a stern voice."I will put it bluntly: I have had little sleep and I am fucking shattered, and I very much would like to get this out of the way as quickly as possibly and have a nap. So I will NOT tolerate anyone attempting to make this briefing last longer than I intend it to. Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" The assembled men replied, making Darlton chuckle softly.

Seemingly satisfied, Ciaran got the briefing got under way quickly, after both the general and the captain were sure that no-one else would interrupt them. Since it was essentially the censored version of the talk that the young man had given in Princess Cornelia's office a few days ago, Ciaran didn't need to change much of the information that he presented; the only real thing he had to change was that instead of a tried and tested tactic, it was merely a concept. Darlton didn't really need to tune in to what he was saying.

Instead, the scarred general merely listened to the young officer's words, seeing how he was presenting the information. Darlton was pleased to see that Ciaran had overcome any shyness he originally had and was presenting the information in clear and concise phrases as he referenced parts shown and not shown on the board. Looking at the men seated in the room, Darlton smiled at seeing how so many of them watched in rapt attention, while the NCOs were busy writing down on pieces of paper any and all information that the young man was giving them. Even Nonette was in rapt attention at what he was saying.

It took three quarters of an hour to go through the whole briefing before Ciaran finished his presentation, clicking the laser pointer off and setting it down below the whiteboard and turning to look at the assembled soldiers.

"Any questions?" He asked, setting his arms behind his back and casting his eyes across the room.

' _Now is the true test._ ' Darlton thought to himself when he saw Walker's hand go up.

"Lieutenant Walker?" Ciaran said, pointing at the man who promptly stood up from his seat.

"Captain, I'm sure you're aware that the insurgency in Area 11 is mainly operating in an urban environment, no?" The ginger-haired officer asked.

"I am aware, lieutenant." The young man said, nodding his head.

"So, doesn't this sort of tactic favour more open environments?"

Darlton watched as Ciaran nodded his head. "That may be true. But as I have said, this is merely a concept; a work in progress, if you will. I'm sure that the situation in Area 11 will allow us to refine the Fireforce as necessity permits."

The man nodded his head before he spoke again. "Another question: why are we all wearing woodland fatigues, instead of the grey uniforms?"

Putting his hands behind his back, Ciaran replied; "Well, for starters; a single piece colour uniform is a poor attempt at camouflage, especially in modern combat zones, since we will never be in an area where anything is a uniform colour, so a flat coloured uniform would put us at a disadvantage. "Secondly; a camouflaged uniform will allow us to destroy the opposing force better. Since they will be reacting to us in a disorientated manner, a camouflaged uniform will hinder their attempts to retaliate. Does that answer your question?"

Sated, Lieutenant Walker nodded his head and sat down, as another hand shot up, this time of a blonde haired man bearing a sergeant's stripes and a Nordic face.

"Name and rank." Ciaran said, nodding his head towards the man. To anyone else, it would have sounded like any other order, but to Darlton's ears, it was an attempt to get the know the men Ciaran would be working with.

The non-commissioned officer stood up smartly. "Brad Colbert, Sergeant, sir. Captain, am I to understand that when we assault an enemy encampment, such as this one," he gestured to the board; "that we will be operating solely out of the helicopters? Isn't that a bit risky?"

"If I was a more hot-blooded individual, I'd say that 'fortune favours the bold'. But I'm not, so I won't." Ciaran replied honestly. "What I will say, is that we will be attacking with the three prime virtues that any offensive operation needs: overwhelming fire-power, speed and, above all, surprise. I mean, come on. Who expects to be attacked by a helicopter in this day and age?"

A ripple of laughter rolled through the room, making Darlton smile again, before Sergeant Colbert sat down.

"Any more questions?" Ciaran asked, clapping his hands gently together.

A few seconds went by before another hand went up, prompting the Briton to point to the owner of the hand. In turn, a man with a moderately thick moustache, oval face, brown hair and a very distinctive Texan drawl stood up and began speaking. "Larry Patrick, sir. Sergeant. Sir, you didn't say anything about Knightmares or other vehicles. Will, they be used or not, sir?"

Turning his head slightly, the young man shot a look at Darlton which the older man couldn't have missed, and it simply said: "We did not plan for this."

Luckily, Ciaran was faster on the draw.

"It is true that I have not included the use of Knightmare frames in my concept, purely because I was unsure of how they could be used without having to completely retrofit any of the Valkyrs. And due to the nature of the conflict in Area 11, I'm sure you could appreciate how quickly the Second Princess wanted us to get this plan tested and put in to operation as soon as possible."

Looking across, Darlton saw Sergeant Patrick nod his head as the captain continued speaking.

"However, with the help of General Darlton, we will be able to devise a way to implement Knightmare frames as mobile heavy support. And, also rest assured on the fact that, right as I speak, engineers in Area 11 are currently working on a vehicle that will be able to aid us in future operations."

Darlton's dark eyes flicked from the Briton to Sergeant Patrick, waiting for a response. Instead, the sergeant just nodded his head and sat back down.

"Any other questions?" Ciaran asked, looking around.

To no real surprise, it was Lieutenant Fick who stood up. "Captain, am I to assume that Lady Enneagram will be taking part in the training for this tactic?"

At the sound of her name being mentioned, Nonette's head perked up and she looked around in surprise. "What? Me?"

"You are the only 'Lady Enneagram' here..." Darlton mumbled under his breath, earning a small glare from the woman beside him.

"Lady Enneagram will be merely observing." Ciaran said out loud, looking directly a Fick. "However, due to her station as a Knight of the Round, she can participate in the training if the mood strikes her."

Subduing the bought of laughter that came to his throat, Darlton shook his head as he remembered the little incident of Ciaran's training in a Knightmare. To his side, the champagne-haired woman shot the general a dirty look at the obvious reference to her part in the whole fiasco.

Fick sat back down, prompting Ciaran to ask again if there were any more questions to be asked. When none were forthcoming, the young man nodded his head with a smile.

"Good. Now, I did originally plan for us to start with a kit inspection and weapons training session, just so I could see how well you all operated, along with giving you all a chance to get acquainted with the Valkyrs, but that was predicated on me having a few more hours sleep." To further prove his point, Ciaran let out a low yawn as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry. But as you can see, I am no in any real state to use a firearm. So instead, we'll take a short break, giving me time to catch up on some sleep, then we'll have lunch and after that, we'll get started on the training. Sound good?"

A collection of appreciative murmurs went up in reply.

"All right then." Darlton said, standing up to his full height. "Lieutenant Walker, Lieutenant Fick. Your men have a few hours free. Might I suggest that you take the time to study the particulars of the Fireforce, and also liaison with Lieutenant Villetta or myself if you have any questions."

"Yes, sir!" The two men and Villetta replied in unison.

"Good. Oh, before we leave, I know that Captain Forsyth has not told you the name of our new unit." Looking to his side, Darlton watched as the Briton arced an eyebrow at him. "Well, that's simply because he has not been informed as to the name. As the Second Princess was the one who decreed that this unit be put together, then she be the one to give it a name."

Reaching in to one of his trouser pockets, the general took out a small folded piece of card as all the other occupants of the room watched in rapt attention. Instead of opening it right there, he handed it to Ciaran. "Since you'll be the commander, it's only fair that you be the one to open open it."

Taking the paper a bit more hesitantly that he would have expected, the young man opened it up and read the letters on the paper loud enough for the room to hear. "332 Light Infantry Battalion... Warhounds?"

Confused muttering when up from the collected soldiers as Darlton leant down slightly to speak closer to Ciaran's ear. "We got the idea from that video we got sent from Zero when you were held captive."

"Ah." The young man said, as he realised what the general was talking about, before he folded the paper back in half and put in one of his pockets. "Well, there we go, folks. We now have a name. Let's live up to it."

A number of subdued affirmations came from the men before Ciaran told them they were dismissed, prompting the young man, Darlton, Nonette and Villetta to exit the room.

Outside in the hallway, the Knight of Nine bumped her fist against the top of the Briton's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Good job, Ciaran! You did a good job in there."

"She's right, Ciaran." Villetta said, turning to look at the young man. "For someone running on as little sleep as you did, you did very well."

"If you say so." The Briton said, sounding like the lack of sleep was finally catching up with him, eliciting a chuckle from Darlton.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," The general began. "I'm going to take Ciaran somewhere were he can sleep, Villetta will stay to liaison with the other officers, and Nonette will try and keep herself as occupied as possible."

"You can count on it!" Nonette said cheerfully, while Villetta simply nodded her head and moved back to enter the room.

"Come on, Ciaran. Let's go." The general said, gently pushing the young man down the hall towards their destination, as the Knight of Nine left them to enter back in to the room.

As they walked down the hall, Ciaran looked up at the taller man. "Did I do well?"

"You did very well, lad." The general said, smiling. "I said it before; you've done good work here, and you should be proud."

Ciaran didn't say anything. He only smiled back at the general.

"Come on. Let's find somewhere were you can lie down." Darlton said warmly.

It didn't take long for them to find such a place. The sight of one of the top generals of them Britannian armed forces walking down the corridor helped clear the way quickly, and soon the two found themselves in a the officer's break-room. Currently, it was nearly empty, only with a few junior officers sitting and watching TV, so Darlton and Ciaran entered in quietly. Spying one of the large couches near the back, the older man pointing the furniture out to his companion.

Seemingly in a daze, Ciaran drifted towards the closest couch before sitting down and falling down on to his side, his head hitting one of the cushions softly as a satisfied sigh left his mouth.

"This is nice." He said dreamily, his eyes flickering shut as his breathing became regular.

"I'll wake you up before we go for lunch. How does that sound?" Darlton asked the young man. But looking at the slumped body, he saw that it didn't make much of a difference. Ciaran was completely asleep. So he did the only thing he could do: he loosened the laces on the young man's boots and lifted his legs on to the couch so he was fully lying on it.

"Get some sleep, son." The scarred general said, before leaving the Briton to doze softly while he went and joined the two junior officers watching TV.

* * *

At the same time, walking in to the hotel suite that the three Knights of the Round had rented in the Hilton Hotel for their short say in San Francisco for Monica's eighteenth birthday, Anya Alstreim closed the door behind her before setting the lock. She had said that she was feeling quite tired from the journey from Pendragon to the city so wanted to take a nap.

To the young girl, it was a truth as she did feel very lethargic and just generally tired. But it wasn't due to any lack of sleep. Inside her mind, Marianne had strong control over the girls body. Along with being able to take control of her consciousness, the deceased Empress could control other aspects of Anya's mental state to suit her own ends.

One such example was being able to manipulate the girl's mental state to make her feel like she was tired when she really wasn't. It was a slightly safer way for Marianne to do something that the older woman wanted to do something without the girl trying to investigate it as one of her 'blackouts', since to the young girl, it was simply her just having a nap.

So, the pink-haired girl moved closer to one of the pair of beds in the room (they may have rented a penthouse suite, but Gino was still a gentleman and had gotten himself his own room. Such a nice boy), then she removed her shoes and climbed under the covers. Letting her head hit the pillow softly, Anya let her breathing become more steady and soon she was fast asleep.

After waiting a few minutes to make sure the girl was fully asleep, Marianne opened her eyes before stretching out in her reclined position and then climbing out of the bed. She didn't bother putting the shoes back on, since it would raise too many questions for the mentally sleeping Anya. Instead, she padded over barefoot to the special screen that many penthouse suites had. They were combination of a television screen, a computer and a video-telephone all in on.

Pressing the power button, Anya's body typed a special code in to the touch keypad that showed up on the screen. It was a special, eight digit code that only a very select chosen few in Britannian society were given, as it gave the user a direct line to the office of the 98th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, Charles zi Britannia.

A soft melodic tone filled the air of the room as the call was connected, before the profile image of the emperor appeared on the screen. He was sitting in his office, his eyes scanning a piece of paper that was held just below the screen's lower edge, his face fixed in a look of weary annoyance. Turning his head slightly, Charles' face didn't change expression at the image of the person that appeared on his screen.

"Marianne." The man stated, obviously knowing that it wasn't the young girl who was calling him. "Why are you calling me? Has something come up?"

"What?" Marianne said, shrugging in an exaggerated manner with a cocky smile on her face. "Can't a wife phone on her husband to make sure he's had a decent lunch?"

Charles let out a sigh at the comment. "Marianne... What's going on?"

"Do you know that person that V.V. told you about?"

The man nodded his head. "I know OF him."

"Well," Marianne said in the manner of a child who had discovered a hidden secret and wanted to milk the whole thing. "I think I've found him. He's here in California with Nonette and Darlton, and he's doing something for Cornelia in Sacramento."

Charles turned his head fully to look at the pink-haired girl. "What's his name?"

"Ciaran Forsyth." Marianne replied.

Putting his hand against his chin in a contemplative pose, the Emperor fell in to quiet silence for a while before he spoke again. "What are your thoughts on him?"

Marianne shrugged the pink-haired girls shoulders. "I don't know. He's definitely an odd one. He gets on well with Darlton and Nonette it seems, and he's quite likeable, I'll admit. A bit rough around the edges, but on the whole, I don't think he's anything to worry about."

And it was true. Even though the young man did go around carrying a pistol, which she assumed to be fully loaded if she knew Darlton, he didn't strike Marianne as someone who was overly dangerous.

"So why was V.V. worrying about him?" She asked, looking at the screen and at her husband as he continued thinking.

"He didn't say." Charles said, shaking his head before looking at the pink-haired girl. "Can you tell if he has any connection to Geass?"

This time, it Marianne's turn to shake her head. "Not that I can tell."

Charles nodded his head in understanding, before sighing and leaned back in his chair, making it groan audibly. "So how do we proceed, Marianne? You're the one currently closest to him. What are your thoughts?"

Now it was Marianne's turn to look thoughtful as she put a finger to her chin. It was true that she did get a generally strange feeling from the Briton, and it was also true that working with Cornelia, so it would probably mean that if an order was given to the Second Princess, then Ciaran would probably have to go with her, so they could get him out of the way if needed.

But she also knew that the Geass order couldn't really do anything to get him under their control. He was too strong-willed, too likely to ask questions. Far too likely to cause trouble. Plus, there was also the possibility that he had some kind of link to CC, and that had to be investigated.

Yet on the whole, he seemed harmless enough.

"I seriously doubt he'll pose any sort of risk, so it might be best if we leave him alone." Marianne said honestly. "I think we should keep an eye on him, just in case, but I don't think we need to do anything against him."

Charles looked at her thoughtfully, before nodding his head slowly. "That makes the most sense, yes."

"Is something wrong, dear?" Marianne asked, knowing full well when her husband was distracted by something.

"V.V.." The Emperor said simply.

"What about him?"

"He's not one who likes to stay put when someone he doesn't like turns up."

Marianne scoffed darkly. "Tell me about it." It was impossible for the woman to forget when that little blonde freak gunned her down in her own home. "Can't you do something to protect him?"

Charles arched an eyebrow at her. "But you said that we should leave him alone?"

The Knight of Six opened her mouth to speak before the man on the other end of the call cut her off. "Marianne, if he really is a member of Cornelia's Royal Guard and is working under General Darlton, then he is in good hands. He also might be able to defend himself if need-be."

Letting out a sigh, Marianne nodded her head. Charles was right: they couldn't do anything to protect the young man without tipping him off that he was being watched so closely, they would have to let him go on his own.

"All right, dear." She said glumly.

"Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?" Charles asked.

"No, that's it." Marianne replied, shaking her head before her husband nodded his head.

"All right then. I'll see you soon. Have a good time." A small but genuine smile crept across Charles face, which Marianne returned herself.

"I will. Goodbye, dear." She said before cutting the phone link, leaving the room in silence again.

Sighing again, the woman shook her head ruefully before she turned around and crawled back in to the bed. That really wasn't the answer that Marianne had wanted to hear, but Charles was right: they couldn't interfere with Ciaran, even if VV sent someone against him. But, from what she gleaned from the young man in the short amount of time that she'd known him, then could defend himself.

She hoped that he was a good shot with his pistol though, as her head hit the pillow.

It was still sometime until Anya was going to meet up with Monica and Gino, so Marianne's disembodied spirit stealthily switched back with the young girl's consciousness, letting the young girl continue sleeping. Besides, an empress needed her beauty sleep too.

* * *

 **AD: Before we get any further: A Brave New World has gone past 200 followers and 200 faves. I am seriously amazed and quite humbled really. Thanks for the support guys. And thanks to AD Fields and mrthischarmingman2 for their continued help with this story.**

 **Although I do have to say: chapter 22 did not get a lot of reviews, I have to say. I mean; it is good to have reviews, but... it just seems weird to have a lot fewer reviews than normal. Did you guys not like it or what? Anyway, on to the story.**

 **So yes, we are finally in the Homeland. Umm... honestly not much to say on this bit really. Although it might make the story run a little longer than I originally, but that would probably be only by a chapter or two. Also, the introduction of several characters, some canon, some non. Some that we'll see a number of times, some we won't see again, some that'll pop up down the line and... well, it's new characters.**

 **Quite military heavy, aye. And a number of references to real world things too:**

 **# The camouflage is obviously based on the British Disruptive Pattern Material (DPM) that was in use during the Cold War and up until the introduction of the Multi-Terrain Pattern camouflage in 2010.**

 **# The number designation of the military unit, The 332 Light Infantry Battalion, is based on the famous 32 Battalion of the South African Defense Force which operated during the South African Border War. If anyone knows their military history, then you'll probably see where I'm going with this unit.**

 **# The names of the infantrymen are based on the real-life names of the soldiers who fought in the US Marine Corps 1st Recon battalion during the Second Iraq War as portrayed in the book and TV series named Generation Kill. I'll be honest here: names are hard for me to come up with. The amount of times I've had to use .com to come up with names.**

 **So that's all I need to say. As usual, read, enjoy and review. Please review, I do like to read what you guys think of the story, even though I regretfully don't have the time to respond to your comments.**

 **Also (again and sorry to keep mentioning this) but this story does not have a TVTropes page, and it would mean a lot if anyone who was capable of it could help expand it. Lord knows I need cheering up. But enough of that. Cheers in advance, guys.**

 **Tatty-bye.**


	24. Chapter 24

Stretching his arms up above his head, Ciaran let out a satisfied groan as he felt the joints grind in his shoulders. A good nap and a good bit of scoff had done wonders for his sleep deprived state. Now, standing near the firing range at Sacramento Air Base, he felt one hundred percent recharged.

"Feel better, Ciaran?" Darlton asked from beside the young man, making him turn his head.

Flashing the general a wide smile, the Briton nodded his head. "You're damn right, general. I feel like I could take anyone on."

"Do you really want to say that around these guys, captain?" Sergeant-major Reynolds said, making Ciaran turn his head in the other direction. The question prompted the young man to look at the assembled men before him, all of them currently working on getting their gear in order, each wearing a short brimmed bush hat to protect from the hot California sun. All of them were in earshot of the young officer who very slowly put his arms down then behind his back in silent agreement with the senior non-commissioned officer.

"Captain Forsyth. A word, if you please?" The blonde sergeant from before, Sergeant Colbert, Ciaran reminded himself, said as he approached the young man.

"What's wrong, Sergeant Colbert?" The young man asked in return, setting his face in a blank look as the older and taller man came closer to him.

'Why the fuck is everyone taller than me?' Ciaran asked himself before Colbert began talking.

"Sir, while I do agree that the idea to give us camouflaged uniforms is a tactically sound idea," The sergeant said. "Doesn't it kind of counteract all of that work if our kevlar is flat grey?"

Looking down at his uniform, the young man knew that Colbert was right: while he and the Pathfinders, along with all the Army Aviators and Villetta as well, were dressed in the same woodland brush-stroke camouflage fatigues, any advantages the wearers had was completely out of the window with the fact that they had giant grey targets on their front and back.

"Yeah, that is a problem." Ciaran admitted before he turned his head to give a flat look at the general beside him.

In response, Darlton merely shrugged his shoulders. "Not my fault. The only gear that we have that's in the same camouflage as the uniforms is the webbing worn by the special forces, and that was a definite no. Too little protection. The only other thing we can offer are pouches in the same colour, and I doubt they'll do much good."

"I don't doubt it, sir." Colbert said, looking at the general.

Putting his hand to his head, Ciaran rubbed his thumb and forefinger back and forth across his temples as he tried to think of what could be done to remedy the situation. Having a flat colour over an intricate camouflage was a sheer fire way to get spotted in a combat zone, especially more so if the colours clashed. They could probably remedy the problem when they got to Area 11, but the problem was right in front of them now, so they had to do something about it.

"How quickly can you get those pouches, general?" The young man asked, turning his head to look at the general again.

"We can get them before the end of today." Darlton said, shooting Ciaran a confused look as the young man put his hand to his chin.

"Right." He said absent-mindedly before turning to look at Reynolds. "Sergeant-major, call the men in, if you please."

Reynolds nodded his head before he bawled out to the soldiers: "Alpha company! School circle on the captain! Double time!"

Each man broke in to a jog as they headed towards the young captain, around whom they quickly formed a circle, two ranks deep, with each man having a clear line of sight on the captain.

When he was sure that all eyes were on him, Ciaran spoke. "Now I know that the combination of the woodland camouflage and the grey kevlar vests is... well, it's bad, I'll be completely honest."

Heads nodded and a few murmured in agreement.

"Don't worry, captain." Sergeant Patrick spoke up, his thick drawl, which reminded the Briton of a Texan drawl, pulling everyone's attention on to him. "We've had worse, but we've all managed to make do. This'll be no problem at all."

The young man nodded along with the other soldiers at the sergeant's words. He couldn't lie but Ciaran did have a mental image of these men as the type of people who... well, in a nutshell would be arseholes to him, either in questioning nearly every order he gave or just generally being dicks around him. But so far, he'd experienced none of that. All of the men had been listening to him intently and following every order he gave without question.

"I don't doubt it, sergeant." The captain said, before clapping his hands together once to get everyone's attention on him. "Shall we get started on some weapons training? Sergeant-major, lead the way."

Nodding his head, Reynolds ordered the soldiers to follow him as he moved through the ranks, Ciaran and Darlton following in his wake. The men made their way down a small tarmac path towards the range. In actuality, it was three areas, sectioned off by thick and tall sandy embankments along the sides of the range: two short ranges, with the shortest being one hundred yards and the longest being three times that length, sat next to the longest and widest range, which sat at a thousand yards in length and four hundred yards in width. Each area was sectioned off in to eight lanes, allowing a full rifle section to use the range they were ordered to use.

It was in front of the shortest range that the group stopped, their attention drawn to a trio of large metal crates, accompanied by two smaller crates, sitting in front of the men. Painted in a drab green paint scheme, the crates sat in a rough semicircle. Each one was stamped with the symbol of the Britannian army: a crowned, winged lion standing on top of a crown, surmounting a pair of crossed swords.

"Are we getting our weapons, sergeant-major?" One of the men asked, a man with a skin-tone Ciaran would describe as Hispanic, which was funnily close to Villetta's, with short black hair and round glasses on his face, as the men stood around crate. "We were ordered to leave them back in Area 11. Were they brought over here?"

It was Darlton who spoke, his deep baritone rolling out smoothly. "No, they were not."

This caused no small amount of confused muttering from the soldiers, but the general ignored it as he continued speaking. "As of this moment, 332 Battalion will be armed with new weaponry, as befitting our new status as an independent unit. Sergeant-major?"

At the unspoken command, Reynolds walked towards the larger crates. Kneeling down, he entered in the combination in to the mechanism and snapped open the locks before lifting up the lid. From his vantage point, Ciaran could see that inside the box was filled with soft foam, like the one used to protect his models when inside the carrying case he bought. But what definitely made it different was what was stored inside.

Reaching inside, the sergeant-major began speaking as he drew out the gun inside and turned to present it to the men, holding the rifle in his hands. It was a bullpup rifle, just like the modern Britannian rifle, but it was longer and less bulky, with a more rounded hand-guard and it lacked the integrated sight/handrail on top, replacing it with a more standard iron sight configuration while also having a longer barrel. Also, instead of the box magazine that was inserted in to the side, it used a more conventional magazine.

"This, gentlemen, is the L61A1 Self Loading Rifle. Chambered in the seven-point-six-two rimless round, it is capable of single-shot, semi- or fully-automatic. Used from the mid nineteen-fifties up until the mid nineteen-nineties. This will be your new weapon."

"We're using an older weapon?" One of the man asked, a tall white man, with short blonde hair, a rough face and some teeth missing from his upper right jaw. "What the hell is this?"

"It makes a bit of sense, Manimal." Another man of equal height, with sergeant's stripes, dark hair and a (Ciaran was really quite ashamed to admit it) handsome face said in a more amicable tone. "We're using older helicopters which still work fine. Besides, I've heard these are pretty good rifles."

"Good?" Darlton said, stepping towards the open crate and picking up one of the weapons, holding it comfortably in his hands. "We used these babies when I was a private. You couldn't ask for a better gun, gentlemen."

Walking forward and taking a gun of his own out of the box, Ciaran definitely had to agree with the general's praise for the weapon. It had a definite weight to it, much more than the rifle he had been trained on at the Viceroy's Palace, which felt like a BB gun in comparison. He racked the slide open, revealing the inner workings, which were made from actual metal components.

"Short-stroke gas mechanism, general?" The young man asked as he let the bolt snap, to which the taller man nodded his head.

"Indeed it is." Darlton replied as he passed off his own rifle to one of the other soldiers. "It's reliable as hell too. You can drop this thing in a foot of mud and it'll still keep working. Although I wouldn't advise on using fully-automatic fire though. The recoil is a right bitch to control and the barrel will climb no matter how hard you fight it."

Ciaran nodded his head in understanding. "No worries. We'll easily work around that." He said before moving the rifle to rest in the crook of his arms.

"Oh, sir, that's not your gun." Reynolds suddenly said, making him blink a bit in surprise before he looked down at the weapon in his arms.

"Oh. Okay." Ciaran said before handing the rifle to the sergeant-major, who in turned handed it off to another soldier. "I do get a gun though, right?"

A small smile came to the senior non-commissioned officer as he nodded his head as he opened a second crate and reached inside. "Yes, you do sir."

An awed smile spread across Ciaran's face at the weapon that Reynolds drew out. It was the same as the other L61A1s that they had taken out, if it wasn't for the large tube with a trigger and pistol-grip attached to the bottom of the hand-guard by a rail system.

"Is that forty millimetre grenade launcher?" He asked, as the sergeant-major walked over and handed him the new weapon. If the vanilla rifle was heavy, the added grenade launcher certainly added extra weight to it. Not much, but enough to make a difference if the recoil was as bad as Darlton said.

"Indeed, it is, captain." Reynolds replied.

Turning his head, Ciaran looked at General Darlton as a smile came to the young man's face. "I'm going to enjoy this so much more now."

The general chuckled before turning to assembled men behind him. "All right. Designated grenadiers and marksmen, collect your weapons. Choose your optics and start zeroing them in by sections. Once you've done that, start filling up your magazines and then we'll start training on the range." Then he turned to Ciaran. "I'll help you choose some optics for your SLR."

For the next couple of hours, the air resounded with the sharp _crack!_ of seven-point-six-two rounds firing through the air before striking in to the sand embankment behind the targets. Firing the SLR was a different experience to the M15: the caseless ammunition, especially one fired by a electric pulse like in the M15, was a much quieter round, creating nothing more than a tinny _pop_. The purpose for the training, along with getting the men used to using a heavier weapon, since heavier materials were required in the construction of a encased cartridge firearm to allow it to operate, was also to get them used to noise generated from firing the SLR.

Needless to say, the soldiers were definitely being put through their paces with their new guns.

"Man, these things kick like a bitch." Ciaran heard the soldier called Manimal said, flexing his shoulder to ease out the pain in his shoulder as Section Two of Alpha platoon came back from the firing line, Section Three taking their place, as they joined the men from Section One.

"Yeah, but there's a definite feeling of raw power from these babies." Sergeant Colbert said as he let his rifle hang down in front of his body, barrel down. "I think I'm starting to see what those liberal dicksucks who say that guns are a substitute for having a small dick are talking about."

The young Briton quietly joined in with the laughter that the blonde sergeant's comment had created before giving his rifle a short once over. It was true: there was a definite thrill to firing a gun like the SLR instilled over the M15. But he couldn't fully place what.

"Captain Forsyth!" A voice called out, drawing him from his thoughts as he looked up for who was calling him. Which turned out to be Sergeant Patrick.

"What's up, Sergeant Patrick?" The young man said as he attached the rifle to the sling he had been given, letting it hang behind him and walked over to the small gathering of soldiers.

"I can't help but look at your sidearm, sir." The moustachioed man said, pointing a finger at the holster sitting at Ciaran's hip. "Is that a .455 Webley?"

Snapping the holster cover open, the young man drew out the pistol. "Indeed it is, sergeant. Got it as a gift from Lady Nonette."

"Ooh, fucking nice, sir." One of the soldiers, with an egg shaped face and a small blonde moustache said, smiling broadly. "Bet that feels fucking awesome to shoot."

Ciaran's eyes snapped open before a sheepish look came to his face. "Actually... I've never really gotten around to firing it."

"What?" The pathfinder asked. "Uh, sir."

"I just never got around to it." The Briton admitted as he holstered the weapon and shrugged. "Everything got a bit hectic after I got it, so I never really got around to it."

Looking past the smaller man, Sergeant Patrick nodded his head towards the pistol range next to the rifle range. "Well we've got the pistol range right here, sir. Why not give it a go right now?"

Turning around, Ciaran looked at the area that the sergeant was indicating at before nodding his head in reply. "All right. Let's do it."

Turning around, the young man sought out the form of General Darlton, who he found in conversation with Lieutenant Fick, their voices lost in the din of weapons fire on the range. Luckily, the walk to the pistol range would take the group past the general.

As he drew nearer, Ciaran called out to the general, who looked up from his conversation with Fick to see the young man walking past him with Section Two in tow. "Taking Section Two to the pistol range, sir."

Darlton nodded his head as he turned back to his conversation with Fick as Ciaran and the other soldiers made their way to the shorter firing range. Like the rifle range, it was divided in to eight lanes while being surrounded by large embankments of sand. Selecting the closest lane, the young man unslung his rifle and handed it to one of the soldiers, who slung it over their other shoulder, before he unholstered his pistol.

"Now just as a warning, captain," Sergeant Patrick said as Ciaran checked the weapon before getting in to the ready position. "A Webley will kick worse than a mule in heat if you're not ready for it. So, just be careful."

"Got it." Ciaran replied as he thumbed off the safety and, after racking the slide to chamber a cartridge, brought the pistol up level with his line of sight. Aligning the sights with the target, the standard silhouette of a person, and waiting a few seconds, he let out an exhale of breath and squeezed the trigger.

If the SLR was loud, the .455 Webley was magnitudes louder, sounding more like a small sized cannon firing than a simple handgun. His vision blurred slightly as his ears began ringing from the force of the change in air pressure. During that time, his wrists were pushed backwards, setting his whole body off balance as he stumbled backwards a few steps.

"Fuck a duck!" The young man said loudly, prompting the men behind him to burst in to howls of laughter.

"What was that, sir?" The soldier with the same coloured skin as Villetta asked, nearly doubling over with laughter.

"Well, to be fair," Sergeant Patrick said, quickly coming down from his own laughing fit and putting on a more professional face. "You were only trained with the L19 pistol, right?"

"Damn right I was." Ciaran replied, shaking out the pain in his wrists.

"So there's no way you could have been prepared for that sort of recoil." The man said as he walked towards Ciaran. "I can show you how to compensate for the recoil, but I'd suggest getting a compensator for the muzzle."

"Got it. So what do I do?" The Briton replied as he took up the same stance as before, after shaking his head slightly to clear up the ringing in his ears. He couldn't help it, but he did jump a bit when he felt a hand push his upper body forward a bit. Turning his head slightly, Ciaran saw the sergeant standing behind him. "Sergeant?"

"Lean in to the pistol." The man said simply, using his left hand to push the smaller man's torso forward before using his right hand to lower the pistol slightly. "It'll let you work against the recoil better. Also point the pistol just a little bit below where you were aiming before. You were aiming at the centre mass, right?"

"Of course." Ciaran said. Aiming and shooting for the centre mass was the quickest and easiest way to put down a combatant. For lighter rounds, it was the best chance for injuring an enemy, but with larger rounds like the .455 or the seven-point-six-two, it would almost invariably result in the enemy being put down.

"Yeah, well you hit the target in the shoulder." The sergeant said.

Looking up, Ciaran grimaced as he saw that that was true: there was a hole in the shoulder of the target directly in front of him: a small pinprick of sand against the black of the target's shoulder. "Oh."

"Yeah." Sergeant Patrick said in reply. "So aim a little lower, just below the bottom of the ribcage." The older man lowered the pistol barrel down slightly, enough so that the sights were lined up with the dead centre of the target before removing his hand and taking a couple of steps back.

"Got it." Ciaran said, as he readied his pistol before a thought struck him. "Can someone spot for me?"

"I'm on it, sir." He heard the voice of the sergeant with a model's face say from behind him. "In your own time, captain."

Maintaining the same stance as he was shown, Ciaran peered down the iron sights of the pistol. Taking aim at the spot he was shown, he let an exhale of breath before squeezing the trigger.

The pistol's report was still loud, but the young man was definitely expecting it, although it still made his ears ring slightly. His stance definitely helped dampen the effects of the recoil, the gun bucking slightly in his hands as the bullet left the muzzle and struck the target.

"Target hit." The handsome sergeant said. "Centre, bottom left. Good job, sir."

Looking forward, the young Briton could see where the bullet had hit: a small hole punched clean through the near centre of the paper, at the bottom of the innermost section of the target and a little to the left.

A smattering of claps and whoops of encouragement came from the men behind Ciaran as he stood back up right and, after setting the safety on, holstered the pistol before turning around and looking at Sergeant Patrick. The man was smiling broadly.

"Good shot, captain." He said as Ciaran walked towards.

"All thanks to you, Sergeant Patrick." The young man said as he extended his hand for a handshake. The taller man had no hesitation in taking the hand and shaking it heartily.

"Call me Pappy, sir." The sergeant said, unprompted as he shook the hand before gesturing behind him to the other sergeant. "The handsome bastard over there if Sergeant Rudy Reyes."

"Happy to help, Captain Forsyth." The dark haired sergeant said, nodding his head by way of a salute.

"Thank you, Sergeant Reyes." Ciaran said, inclining his head towards Reyes, who returned the gesture, before the young man and Pappy began walking over to the other soldiers. "Since I've got you men here, I feel that I should ask: what are your thoughts on this whole endeavour?"

All of the soldiers looked uncomfortably between each other, obviously unsure about what to say.

"You can speak freely." Ciaran said simply. "I honestly want to hear your opinions."

It was Pappy who spoke up. "We've all done similar operations and, to be honest, it sounds like the idea is a mixture of all of the principles we already know. Except with the added bonus of extra gunship support. So... I'll say that it's got my support."

"I agree with Pappy, sir." Reyes said, nodding his head. "The principles are sound, and if it's got General Darlton's support, then it's got my support as well."

All of the men gathered around began nodding their heads and muttering in agreement, making Ciaran smile as he gestured to have his rifle returned to him.

"Captain," A soldier with a boyish face and what looked like dark hair under his bush hat asked, putting his hand up as Ciaran fitted the sling over his shoulder. "Can I ask a question?"

"Of course, uh... name?"

"Corporal Jason Lilley, sir." The soldier replied, lowering his hand. "I'm wondering: where is Lieutenant Villetta?"

Not the question he expected, but Ciaran did have the answer to it. "Lieutenant Villetta is with our comrades from the Army Air Corps giving the Valkyrs a once over and checking their operational status. So we won't be seeing her for the majority of our time here."

"Aww, that's a shame." Corporal Lilley said. "She's hot."

Ciaran really had no idea how to respond to that comment so he just shrugged his shoulders.

At another time and place, the gesture from the young man would have drawn several comments about his perceived sexuality, in the way those sorts of gestures are perceived by large groups of males in close proximity.

That's how it would have gone, hadn't a low and distant _whup-whup-whup_ noise filled the air, sounding a bit like someone trying to use a weed strimmer in the deep end of a pool.

The sounds of gunshots stopped as the Pathfinders stopped in their drills to wonder about the new sound, turning their heads this way and that, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. Even Ciaran turned his head around, trying to find the source of the noise.

A smile came to his face as he saw a dark shape coalescing in the sky, small at first but coming closer and closer at speed. It was definitely the shape of a helicopter, even if the sound didn't give it away.

"Is that what I think it is?" The voice of Lieutenant Fick said from behind the young man, having walked up to join him. Turning around, Ciaran saw that the lieutenant had General Darlton in tow, the senior officer looking no-less confused than the other soldiers, but also quite expectant.

As the dark shape formed in to something more solid, forms like short wings on the sides with large cylindrical tanks attached to the bottom becoming more clearer, Ciaran nodded his head. "Indeed it is."

The juddering noise suddenly became a roaring _WHUMP-WHUMP-WHUMP_ as the Valkyr gunship performed a low pass over the soldiers, probably no more than three hundred metres above their heads. Still, even at that height, the noise generated from the coaxial rotors filled the air as the helicopter flew over the soldiers and performed a lazy loop to the left before levelling out to fly back to where it came from.

Flying in profile at such close proximity, Ciaran could make out all of the details on the aircraft: how the bottom was painted a neutral shade of blue, while the upper part of the helicopter was painted in a blotchy pattern of sand and green. On the section of the tail closest to the fuselage, a gold lion rampant, probably a foot shorter than himself, stood facing the front of the aircraft in a dark blue diamond, while the serial number '101' were printed in big black numbers on the fuselage. Nearer the front of the gunship, Ciaran saw a black space in the side and a figure dressed in green stood in the doorway, waving a hand at the men on the ground before the vehicle sped off again, the sound of it's rotors fading in to the distance.

"Now that was impressive." Fick said in amazement, which was a sentiment shared by the other soldiers, who began talking animatedly and excitedly about what they just saw.

"Was that Villetta's aircraft, sir?" Ciaran asked, moving to stand beside Darlton so he could be heard over the din created by the others, causing the general to shake his head in reply.

"No. Villetta's heli is the command car, gunship number one hundred." The general answered before a smile came to the man's face. "That was bloody impressive though."

The young man couldn't fight the grim smile that came to his face as he nodded his head. "I've seen combat footage of Russian Hinds in action. They're fucking brutal."

"How brutal?" Darlton asked, arcing an eyebrow.

"Best way to describe them, sir? Aerial butchers." This earned a cautious look from Darlton, which confused Ciaran a bit. "What? Like Knightmares fire cotton balls at the enemy? I remember Saitama."

The older man looked at the Briton for a few seconds before sighing. "It's the nature of the beast, isn't it? The best way to defeat the enemy is to have a more devastating weapon than your opponent."

"Very true." Ciaran nodded. "But the best side is the one who can restrain that devastation to not cause unnecessary casualties. Which is what this unit is for."

"What was that, sir?" Pappy asked, seeming to have caught the last part of Ciaran's sentence as he turned around to look at the young man quizzically. This prompted Ciaran to look up at Darlton, who merely shrugged.

"Just that we should get the men back to training." The young captain said, looking past the taller man for Reynolds, before simply deciding to yell out for him. "Sergeant Major! Lieutenant Fick!"

"Sir!" The two officers called out, quickly moving towards Ciaran's position, saluting smartly as they stood before the smaller man.

"Get each section leader up here. Break each section down in to four man sticks, designate each stick leader, then get them up on to the firing line. We're going to train to manoeuvre as single sticks, then we'll increase in size until each platoon is able to operate in sync in small level teams. Got it?" Ciaran said sternly.

"Right, sir." Fick said, nodding his head before turning to give the orders to the men, who promptly carried out their tasks. When the young lieutenant had left, the sergeant-major approached the Briton.

"Sir, you do know that's kind of what the Pathfinders do anyway?" Reynolds asked, looking a bit confused.

"As reconnaissance teams and as small level operators, yes." Ciaran replied, nodding his head at the question. "But from what I understand, Pathfinders have never had to carry out assault operations at any size larger than a section. Am I right?"

The tall man was quiet for a moment as he thought over the answer before nodding his head. "Yeah, just about."

"So you need the practice then." Ciaran said with a grin, before he unslung his rifle, letting it rest in his hands before he began walking over to the rifle range. "I'll join with Section Two."

Neither officer said anything as the young man joined the soldiers as Lieutenant Fick began splitting them in to their sticks. Soon, the air was filled with the sounds of gun shots again, this time along with the sound of shouted orders.

For the rest of the day, the men of 332 Battalion carried out fire and manoeuvre exercises to get them used to operating on small scale teams in platoon level operations. While it was true that Pathfinders were primarily reconnaissance units, specializing in intelligence gathering and disruption tactics, the men were able to handle themselves on the attack in the field with definite skill. Each man in a stick was able to work in sync with the other men of his unit, which in turn that each stick was able to work in perfect unity with the others.

Ciaran couldn't help but remember the words of Lord Wellington on his own forces: "I don't know what affect these men will have on the enemy, but by God, they terrify me."

At the same time, it wasn't just the Briton who was finding his forces to be more impressive than they imagined.

* * *

Seated in the front-most seat of the Valkyr labelled as '100', the designated command craft, or K-car if one used the terminology Ciaran had used in his essay, Villetta saw the area designated as the helicopters landing zone drawing closer. Sixteen large hangars sat on the left hand side of the area, all but three with their colossal doors closed, while outside, five other aircraft, all painted the same colours as the one Villetta was in, sat silently on the tarmac.

"Three hundred metres out. Deploying landing gear." The voice of the pilot, Warrant Officer Lucas Boisseau, seated in the pilot's seat behind her, came through the headphones fitted in to the noblewoman's flight helmet. The twin bubble cockpit, having the pilot seated behind the gunner, forced the pair to make use of two way radios to communicate with the other and other personnel.

"Copy that. Crewman, prepare for landing." The noblewoman responded as she felt the helicopter slow down before descending slowly towards the ground. The corrugated tops of the hangars climbed up to met her view before she sunk below them, before she felt the helicopter bump to a halt and the crewman's voice came in to her ear.

"Contact made. We are on the ground." The woman's voice came as a reply, which still surprised Villetta quite a bit. It was a common fact that all branches of the Britannian army, with exception of the special forces, were integrated along gender lines. But it still took her by surprise to see that so many of the pilots and the crew chiefs from the Army Air Corps, almost a full half of Lieutenant Walker's command, was female.

"Shutting down the engine." Boisseau said as the sounds of the twin, turboshaft rotatory blades began winding down from a loud roar until a dull _whoosh_ ing sound before finally stopping. "And we are cold. Ladies first."

Taking off her helmet and placing it on the dashboard in front of her, shaking her hair loose so it hung over her shoulders slightly as she did so, the noblewoman contemplated on the other surprise she found in the Army Air Corps as she climbed out of the vehicle: so many of the pilots were from the nobility! Again, it was a half-and-half split; half of the pilots and crews being of noble birth while the other half were commoners. Granted, all of the other noblemen and women were from the lower end of the spectrum: second sons of nobles, daughters of counts who didn't want to be married off, some baronets and even a few knights like her.

Boisseau was the best example of this: a tall, lanky man with olive skin, black hair and hazel eyes, from Louisiana, he was the third son of a family that traced their lineage back to a French count, Le Comte de Foix, who fled to the Americas like so many others of the European nobility had before the Revolution, becoming a part of the Cajun population of the county of Louisiana, which grew out of the province of Acadiana. His position in the family line granted him practically nothing; even if he had been married off to another noble house, nothing would have come from it for either family. A career in the military, and a possible knighthood, would be the only way for him to regain any prestige in the eyes of the nobility.

"It's an amazing thing." The man in question said as he climbed out of his own cockpit and climbed down the side of the nose of the helicopter. His slightly roguish accent made him sound like an old story teller, or a fisherman. "She looks so ungainly, but when you start flying... she 'andles like a dream."

Villetta nodded her head as she looked at the vehicle standing beside her. It was true that when she had first seen the Valkyrs sitting in their hangars, she had shared in the very vocal opinion that the ageing aircraft would not be able to fly. That wasn't to say that she didn't believe in what Ciaran had said for the Fireforce, but the initial look at the tarpaulin and dust covered helicopters had definitely not given her much of a positive impression.

Turns out a quick spray with a hose did a little bit to make an old vehicle look more serviceable, but not by much.

A quick inspection of the flight controls, however, told another story. The instruments, the controls and the readouts, all were in pristine condition. Villetta was sure that the inner workings of the cockpits had been replaced before they had been prepared for the captain's training.

Turns out that was not the case.

"All of the helicopters had been made ready for combat in Euro-Britannia," The senior aviation crewman, Staff Sergeant Jason Hatfield, a squat man with a thick, handlebar moustache and grey-streaked black hair, had said as he stood beside Valkyr 100, a hand resting on the nose of the aircraft. "However, the newer Falcon gunship had just rolled off of production lines, and command felt that the Falcon was the better alternative, so they just put these in to storage."

"Still doesn't explain why the instruments look brand new though..." Villetta had responded half-heartedly as she peered in to the gunners seat.

"We give the engineers a challenge every year or so." Hatfield replied, shifting his stand to look up at the noblewoman in her seat. "Originally, it had been to change out the original instrument panels and replace them with newer ones, but that got expanded in to completely bringing up the entire aircraft up to spec."

"So why have we never seen these things flying then, if they're up to modern specifications?" Boisseau asked, to which the staff sergeant had merely shrugged, reflecting one of the simplest facts of the military; the soldiers on the ground never understood what those in high command were thinking.

And that train of thought was further exacerbated when the pilots and crews got to grips with the Valkyrs. Any thoughts on the gunships being ungainly or unflyable had gone out of the window when the first helicopter, Valkyr 104, ignited it's turboshaft engine, the coaxial rotor roaring in to life before it lifted it's bulk off the ground and began flying laps around the airbase.

While Villetta wasn't actually piloting Valkyr 100, merely having control over the (at present) non-existent weapons, she definitely could not deny that it was an experience flying over the airbase. Flying at a speed of over 270 miles per hour, a far superior speed to which any of the current-gen Knightmares were capable of, made the world pass by in a blur as Villetta was flown around the base in two laps before being brought back to their starting point.

In her mind's eye as she looked over the helicopter, the tawny-skinned noblewoman was envisioning what the effect of these gunships would be when they had their weapons mounted, and what it would be like to be on the receiving end of such an attack. She quickly banished the thought as she felt a shudder go down her spine.

"Something wrong, _mademoiselle_?" Boisseau asked from behind her, bringing her back in to the present, making her turn around to look at the man, his flight helmet held in his arm in a decidedly cocky manner.

Shaking her head clear of the thoughts, Villetta put on an impassive smile. "Just feeling sorry for the poor bastards who we use this against."

The man nodded his head before the noblewoman began walking away from the vehicle, the Cajun man in tow, and headed towards the central, open hangar.

Looking out of the corner of her eye at the man behind her, Villetta decided to take a page from Ciaran's book on officer-soldier relations. "So what are your thoughts on this whole endeavour, warrant officer?"

Boisseau shrugged non-committally. "A wing of these gunships alone would be something to be reckoned with when they're fully armed. But adding Pathfinders in to the mix? That sounds like overkill to me, ma'am."

Villetta had to nod her head at the man's reasoning. Using gunships against an enemy force, an enemy force which the captain had said would always be caught unawares, was one thing. But to combine them with some of the best aggressive reconnaissance operators in the Britannian military?

"Well, they do say that there's no kill like overkill." She responded, putting on a wan smile as the pair made their way across the tarmac to the hangar. As they made their way inside the spacious building, mercifully walking out of the hot sun and in to the cool shade of the building, Villetta saw the other pilots and crewmen crowded around Lieutenant Walker, who was standing in front of a large collection of tarpaulin covered objects, all of which seemed to be longer by shorter than him.

"We should hurry up." Villetta said, before turning around calling out over her shoulder. "Andrews! Let's go! Double time."

The female crewman quickly deposited her helmet in to the Valkyrs crew compartment and sprinted towards the two officers, who were making their way towards the gathering of army aviators at a jog. Soon, the trio had reached the gathering, looking a little bit flushed from running in the heat. Which earned a good chuckle from the assembled soldiers.

"We would have waited for you, Oscar." A woman, with pale skin, ginger hair and green eyes, joked with a noble inflection. Looking at her uniform, Villetta saw that she was the same rank as the man she was ribbing.

"I highly doubt you would, _ma ch_ _è_ _re dame_ Veronica." Oscar responded, bowing in a theatrical manner before taking a seat on one of the empty chairs. "You never were one to wait around. I'm still surprised they let you fly."

Veronica looked ready to give a retort, but Lieutenant Walker's voice stopped her dead. "All right, that's enough, people. Let's get down to business."

Villetta sat down in one of the chairs near the front of the group as the lieutenant continued speaking.

"So we've all put the Valkyr through it's paces in flight. So what do you all think?"

One of the pilots, a black man with close cropped hair and a horizontal scar across his right cheek and vivid blue eyes, put his hand up.

"Pate?"

"Compared to the Falcon, sir?" Pate replied, resting his elbows against his knees as he spoke. "The Valkyr honestly handles a lot smoother than it looks. The size of it means it's not the most agile of aircraft, but it's speed more than makes up for it."

"Yeah, what was it's operational mileage again?" Another woman, with tanned skin and auburn hair asked from her seat. "Nearly three hundred miles?"

"Three hundred and fifty." Boisseau replied before he added his own opinions. "It's easy to control on take-off. The wings definitely help, but I won't say how well it handles in combat until we have a go at live-firing it."

Walker nodded his head silently at everything his subordinates said, until he turned to look at Villetta. "Miss Villetta. Your thoughts?"

Looking out of the corner of her eyes, the tawny-skinned noblewoman saw that all eyes were on her. Resting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward to rest her chin against her fists as he thought over what she could say.

"Speaking as a person who has never piloted an aircraft before outside of simulations, so I will say that flying in the gunner's seat of one of them was an experience." She admitted, feeling a little bit embarrassed by what she was saying among a group of dedicated pilots. "But I felt that... even flying in it without anyone shooting at us or us shooting at anyone, that it is a vehicle that will definitely outclass anything we'll face."

Looking around, Villetta saw all of the people taking in what she had said before nodding their heads in agreement. Even Lieutenant Walker nodded his head, his face remaining unreadable.

"So we all agree that it's a good aircraft to fly, but we're still undecided on how well it'll handle in an offensive role."

Everyone nodded their heads.

"Right then. Let's get started on the weaponry then." Walker said, the ghost of a smile on his face before he turned to the staff sergeant with the big moustache. "Sergeant Hatfield, if you please."

At the order, the stout non-commissioned officer rose from his seat and moved towards one of the sheet coverings, which he quickly grabbed on to and yanked away to reveal what was underneath.

Suspended in a metal frame, was the distinctive form of a Denel Land Systems G-2 twenty-millimetre chain gun, it's long four foot barrel and it's large motor and connection assembly attached to the end. Even unattached to a vehicle, Villetta couldn't help but be awed by the lethality the weapon exuded.

"The shipment of weapons for the Valkyrs has arrived, and I will say that it is definitely geared towards anti-infantry operations." Walker said as he moved to stand near the heavy weapon. "It's chain guns mixed with a few AGMs. We've also got the crew served weapons for each helicopter, so each team will need to collect your designated weapons and you can start installing them."

The aviators got up off their seats and moved towards the weapons, with Villetta proceeding to stand up to follow them with her crew. Although this was not to be as Walker stopped them mid-step.

"Hold up, Miss Villetta. According to Captain Forsyth's new doctrine, your Valkyr is the designated command craft, right?"

"... correct." The noblewoman replied with just a little bit of hesitancy. She had to admit to herself that she still wasn't sure why Ciaran had picked her to be the person who, in every sense of the word, was the one who would be in command of any operation they took part in.

"Well, as per his and General Darlton's orders, your 'K-car' is being outfitted differently to the others."

"Different how?" Boisseau asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'll show you." Walker said, leading the trio through the bustling activity of the other crews getting their gunships weapons ready for installation, each crew working in relative silence as they removed the weapons from their packaging.

"Over here." The ginger-haired officer said as he directed Villetta and her subordinates to a large, black metal crate, roughly three feet in length and two feet in height, and another weapon suspended in a metal frame. This one was the shorter, but no less lethal, M197 electric cannon. A three-barrelled variant of the twenty-millimetre General Dynamic M61 Vulcan cannon, it was essentially a stripped down variant of the larger Gatling-style rotary cannon used in the attack aircraft of the Britannian Air Force and a few Knightmare frames.

"Captain Forsyth did say a twenty-millimetre cannon would be the best weapon to use in the K-car, so we managed to swing this." Walker said, gesturing non-committally to the weapon. "Unfortunately, it is the crew-serviced variant, so Crewman Andrews will have to operate it. But you can tailor your ammunition loadout better."

Villetta nodded her head in understanding as she approached the weapon to give a look over, before turning back to look at the other lieutenant. "So what's in the crate?"

Not saying a word, Walker moved over to the crate and popped open the latches on the lid before lifting the lid up, moving himself out of the way to show what was inside it. Stepping forward, Villetta came over to see what was inside the box.

Sat inside foam packing, a metal sphere, roughly three feet in diameter, with a camera the size of a good sized dinner plate staring blankly up at the roof in the front and attached to a metal bar above it.

"A Multi-Spectral Targeting System." Walker said, patting the side of the crate lightly. "We normally use them on the Reaper drones, but the engineers have found a way to link the device to your flight helmet. Perfect for a bird's eye view of the battlefield."

Leaning over, the noblewoman pushed a lock of hair that had fallen to block her sight out of the way as she peered at her own reflection in the device. This was just so surreal.

"I'll be honest; I honestly have no clue as to how we're going to pull this all together." Villetta said to herself as she stood back upright. "Gunships that we haven't used for twenty years. Infantry over Knightmares. I just can't wrap my head around it."

To her side, Walker nodded his head too. "I agree. I mean, these helicopters are tough, including the decoy flares to deal with heat-seekers, plus they're fast but... I'll be honest, what happens if the enemy is prepared for us? The plan requires the enemy to be caught off-guard."

Villetta couldn't help but nod her head in agreement, furrowing her brow as she thought over what the man had said. It was true that out of all the types of operations that the Britannian military had carried out, this one had to be the most outrageous. But it was also true that this was something that no-one, either in Britannia or Area 11, would expect. Aerial assaults of Knightmares were the norm for any Britannian assault, and the Empire made no attempt to hide that fact, so it was the type of assault that any of their enemies would expect to face.

But helicopter gunships? How would anyone be able to prepare for that?

Taking a short but steady breath through her nose, Villetta looked at Lieutenant Walker with a small smile before she, shrugging, said, "We'll just to have test it to find out."

The ginger-haired aviator just looked her quizzically, before Boisseau butted in.

"He who dares, wins." The nobleman stated matter-of-factly.

Lieutenant Walker looked at the olive-skinned man for a few seconds before he simply shrugged and walked away, prompting Boisseau to stand a bit closer to Villetta.

"Don't mind him, none, ma'am. It's always been hard for him to see the good side in anything, so with this sort of thing, I doubt he'd be very excited."

The tawny-skinned woman regarded her pilot for a few seconds as she took in what Boisseau had said. It was true that this was a new tactic being tested out, so there was still the rational amount of nervousness around it being put in to practice. But, as the Cajun man had quoted: who dares, wins.

Reaching in to the large box next to her, she took a hold of the targeting system and began levering it out of it's foam casing. "Come on, help me get this in to place."

* * *

For the next two days, the Sacramento Air Base resounded to the sounds of gunshots and helicopters as the men and women of 332 Battalion honed their craft. Units that once operated in small units only to conduct recon on the enemy, now utilized their small units size to conduct attacks on an as yet non-existent enemy. Soldiers learned to support each other through fire, kneeling or lying down to engage and suppress the enemy while other sticks advanced on the enemy, while the gunship crews learnt fly close to the ground, two hundred metres over the heads of the soldiers, as they went against their targets with rockets and chain-guns.

At the captain's orders, the Pathfinders spent time with the army aviators in the mess hall and in the recreation areas during down time. Due to the nature of the two different units, it wouldn't do much to overcome the inter-service rivalries that existed between the two groups, but it would help to promote some form of camaraderie between them.

That closeness was then extended to the motor-pool, all soldiers learning the ins and outs of their flying chariots. The men who had the proclivities for it were allowed to pair up with the engineers and crewmen to help with the maintenance of the Valkyrs. As non-standard equipment, it was very unlikely that, if things went wrong, then they would have to rely on non-standard expertise in fixing them. As it were, Corporal Ray Person and Corporal Jeffrey Carisalez turned out to be experts on managing to scrounge up materials that were more than capable of keeping the Valkyrs flying when repairs were needed.

This sort of connection was only the prelude to the sorts of bonds that could be created in the fires of combat, but to Ciaran, it was a start.

What was also a start were the events of Friday the 24th, when everyone finally found out if what they had been trained for over the last three days would work, or whether it would crash and burn, both literally and metaphorically.

* * *

The sound of the rotors was deafening inside the hull of Butcher One-One, the airframe juddering slightly as the helicopter flew to it's destination through the early morning sky. Inside the space of the troop compartment, filled with twelve other bodies, Ciaran removed his cap from his head before bringing his hand up to wipe away the layer of sweat that had built up on his forehead. Moving his hand clear, he replaced the headgear before letting out an annoyed huff.

"I'm so fucking hot!" He called out in annoyance to no-one in particular.

"Oh good! I'm not the only one!" One of the soldiers responded in turn, earning a bout of laughter from the others and a grin from the Briton, even as he took a quick swig from his hydration pack, grimacing slightly at the taste of the water mixing with the plastic of the drinking tube.

It had been five minutes since the quintet of Valkyrs lifted up from their staging post and headed to the target area. The recon team under Pappy had spotted insurgent activity in an abandoned village some twenty miles out and had called for a Fireforce deployment. Initial reports put the enemy force at over fifty enemy fighters and one Knightmare frame.

Three minutes later, the lead elements of 332 Battalion, made up of Villetta in Butcher Actual, Butchers One-One, One-Two and One-Three, with the men of Alpha Platoon in their newly organized Sticks filling up the three helicopters, while Butchers One-Four and One-Five acted as gunship support.

"Butcher Actual to Griffin Actual. One minute to target." The voice of the pilot came through Ciaran's left ear, making him nod before depressing the button on his radio set to speak to both the pilot and the men with him.

"Copy that, Butcher Actual. Griffin Actual to all Griffin units; one minute to target. Everyone go in to red-con one posture."

Various positive response came back in reply before the other men in Butcher One-One began readying their weapons, racking the slides of their rifles to chamber a round. Ciaran did the same before popping open the chamber of his grenade launcher. Reaching in to one of the smaller pouches on his chest, the young man pulled out the brass shape of a forty-millimetre high-explosive grenade before sliding the round home and closing the chamber.

Looking up, Ciaran saw Sergeant Colbert sitting across from him, in the middle of the same process, a forty-millimetre grenade in his hands. Nodding his head, the sergeant shot the young man a smile before loading his own grenade launcher, which the Briton returned.

Taking a deep breath, he did his best to steady his nerves. He tried his best to tell himself that it was the same situation as at Kitakyushu... but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't do it. That night at the docks had been a leap in to the unknown, a blind jump against unknown enemy numbers.

But now... it was like standing on a diving board looking down in to the deep end of a pool. You knew how far you had to fall and you knew that the water was underneath you, but you couldn't tell what was underneath the water.

Ciaran felt two emotions running through him: fear and excitement.

The dulled but distinct sound of a twenty-millimetre cannon firing reached his ears before Villetta's voice came through. "Butcher Actual to all Butcher units: targets engaged, enemy Knightmare destroyed. Prepare to offload sticks"

"Butcher One-One copies all." The pilot's voice responded. "Thirty seconds out, preparing to offload sticks."

"Thirty seconds!" Ciaran called out. "Everyone get ready!"

At the last word, the roar of the Valkyrs rotors became deafening as the doors on the sides of the aircraft were pulled open by the gunships crewman, letting the wind whip in, making the eyes of everyone sting from the force. Screwing his eyes shut, Ciaran reached down and pulled up the goggles that he had around his neck before securing them around the back of his cap. Blinking away the water in his eyes, the young man saw all of the soldiers had done the same with their goggles, securing the straps of their eye-wear to the back of their helmets.

He knew that he very probably should have worn one too, what with the risk of falling out of the helicopter if he was really unlucky or getting shot in the head if he was moderately unlucky. But ever since he had met the men he was sitting with now, he had quickly become identifiable t them by him wearing a cap. Which in a situation that could quickly become chaotic would be an invaluable fact.

Villetta's voice cut in again. "Griffin Actual; Griffin One-Alpha, One-Bravo and Two-Alpha will be the sweep. Griffin Three-Alpha and Three-Bravo will act as stop on the right. Four-Alpha and Four-Bravo will act as stop on the left. Two-Alpha will focus on targets of opportunity. How copy? Over."

"Griffin Actual copies all."

"Griffin One-Actual copies all." Lieutenant Fick, attached with Griffin Three-Alpha replied from his own helicopter.

The whirring of machinery over his head made Ciaran turn his head as he watched the large rear door at his left side began to split in half, lowering and raising to sit flush against the body of the helicopter. As they did, the young man's eyes opened wide at what he saw: Butcher One-One had dropped closer to the ground, the dust from the ground coming up to meet the craft before scattering around it as it flow towards it's landing zone. Behind it, a large plume of smoke in the middle of a collection of poorly constructed huts, the burning remains of a recently destroyed Knightmare Frame burning brightly. Like vultures preparing for a feeding frenzy, the various helicopters of Butcher squadron either circled around the target area or spread out to drop off their troops, their rotors kicking up blankets of dust as they lowered to the ground.

The pilot's voice came in to his ear again as the helicopter dropped closer to the ground. "Get ready to disembark in ten, nine, eight, seven, six..."

Ciaran took over the count. "Five, four, three, two, one! Go, go, go! Everyone out!" He yelled out as he surged to his feet just as the Valkyr came to a halt above the ground. His vision was momentarily blurred out as the force of the transport's rotors, causing him to misjudge the distance from the floor of the ramp to the ground, making him stumble out of the transport. The young man would have landed square on his face if he hadn't had the reflex action to land forward on his unburdened left hand and his knees, and he landed hard, pain lancing through his limbs as he landed hard on the sandy ground and dried grass.

He didn't have time to scold himself however before he scrambled forward, avoiding the boots of the men of Griffin One-Alpha coming down on to the ground where he knelt mere seconds before, while One-Bravo and Two-Alpha exited via the side doors of the helicopter. Dropping to a knee, Ciaran levelled the rifle in front of him, aiming down the small scope attached to the top of the sight, even if his vision was hampered by the dust, before he switched on his radio.

"Griffin Actual to sweep units. Everyone in position?"

"Griffin One-Alpha, check."

"Griffin One-Bravo, check."

"Griffin Two-Alpha, check."

Ciaran nodded his head as, looking around, he saw the dozen men under his direct command all in the same position, their rifles held in their hands as they searched for any targets. "All right. Sweep units, move forward."

At the command, the men rose from a kneel and began walking forward quickly, their rifles held ready and their eyes scanning for targets as the helicopter gunship lifted off from the ground and began circling the target area.

Moving forward, Ciaran lead the soldiers in a quick advance for several dozen metres before Sergeant Colbert called out to his right. "Enemy contact. Three hundred metres to our front!"

"Advance and engage! Do not stop. Keep up the pressure!" The young captain called out before he brought his SLR up flush with his shoulder and began firing in semi-automatic, one shot for every pull of the trigger, each soldier adding their own fire in turn. It was a slow way to fire, but much easier to pick off targets at long range. Soon, the air was filled with the snap and whine of seven-point-six-two rounds ripping the air apart as they flew towards their target.

Ciaran's radio crackled in to life. "Griffin Actual, this is Three-Alpha. We have enemy attempting to break contact. Engaging now." Seconds later, the sound of eight more rifles firing added to the din of combat.

"Copy that." Ciaran replied before talking in to his radio again. "Griffin Actual to all units: sweep is moving in to target zone. Watch your fire. Repeat: friendly units are advancing in to target zone. Watch fire. Over."

His radio crackled again as all units responded positive as the sweep element advanced closer to the target.

Ejecting the magazine from his weapon, Ciaran reached in to one of his pouches and took out a fresh one before slamming it home and racking the slide as he continued his advance. Soon, the sweep elements had reached their designated stop area, a couple of hundred yards from the outskirts of the shanty village.

Villetta's voice crackled in to the Briton's ear. "Griffin Actual, this is Butcher Actual. Be advised: enemy forces are attempting break out on the right flank but some are still holed up in the village itself. How copy? Over."

Kneeling down close to the ground, Ciaran keyed his own radio. "Copy that, Butcher Actual. Interrogative: can you tell where exactly the enemy is holed up in? Over."

Looking up, the young man saw the form of the noblewoman's Valkyr circling high above the battlefield, like a predatory hawk.

"Griffin Actual, they're in the huts to your immediate twelve and one o'clock. Over."

"Griffin Actual copies all. Over and out." Ciaran replied before he addressed the soldiers. "Enemy in the huts at twelve and one o'clock. Colbert, with me!"

Raising his rifle up to his shoulder, the Briton flicked off the safety on the underslung grenade launcher as his left hand gripped the pistol-grip on the weapon. Sighting the weapon, he depressed the trigger, causing to make a loud _thump_ sound as it fired it's forty-millimetre, high-explosive payload at the hut to his immediate front.

The effect was spectacular, as the grenade punched through the thin wall of the hut and landed in the middle of the dwelling before exploding with force. The walls of the hut were blown outwards, casting the walls in to splinters. While it didn't create the same sort of spectacular explosion one saw in films, it was still something to see. Plus, it made Ciaran's ears ring again.

Lieutenant Fick's voice came in just as the noise of the explosion died down and the rifle shots trailed off. "Griffin Actual, this is Griffin One-Actual. Enemy is suppressed on right flank. Over"

Villetta's voice came in on the heels of Fick's. "Butcher Actual to Griffin Actual. All enemy personnel have been suppressed. How copy? Over."

Slinging his rifle, Ciaran pulled the goggles up from his eyes and put them against the front of his cap as he stood up and surveyed the level of destruction before him. The ruined frame of a Knightmare Frame was burning, the flames starting to spread around the destroyed machine. Directly in front, the wooden frames of the huts that still stood were perforated with so many holes, it looked ridiculous to have them still standing.

Keying his radio, Ciaran spoke in to his headset. "Griffin Actual copies all. General Darlton, can you hear me?"

The general's rough voice came in short seconds after. "Read you loud and clear, Ciaran. What's up?"

"Umm... we might need a fire-crew down here." The young man said with a little bit of trepidation as he saw the flames begin to spread from the ruined machine in to the ruined remnants of the settlement specifically constructed for the exercise.

"That bad, huh?"

"Well, let's just say... it's not gonna get better unless it suddenly starts raining."

As if to further illustrate his point, one of the perforated walls collapsed upon itself in a splintering crash.

"Please hurry, sir." Ciaran said in a worried voice, prompting the soldiers around him to begin sniggering.

* * *

For the rest of the day, the six gunships of Butcher Squadron flew the three platoons of 332 Battalion to and from Sacramento Airbase in to the area chosen as their makeshift target area, after it had been liberally hosed down after Ciaran found out that even a small amount of explosives in a hot and dry environment had the very real potential to start a brushfire. Each platoon was run through the same situation: after the observation team for each platoon finds the enemy encampment, Butcher-Actual would lead the other five gunships, three acting as troop transports while the remaining two acted as fire-support gunships.

The order of battle was changed each time, with each of the G-cars alternating as either troop transport or support gunship, to get each pilot used to working with either decreased or increased weight. The directions of approach were changed each time, each angle and direction being chosen by General Darlton before each operation. The only variable that stayed the same was the use of an old trio of Glasgow Frames as the main heavy support for the enemy, which both Ciaran and Darlton reasoned as would be the more likely the case in Area 11.

As with any experimental procedure, there were some teething problems: the most memorable one being on the second mission when Hitman Two-Alpha, the fourth stick in Bravo Platoon, had a very close call from Butcher One-Two acting in a gunship role as it performed a low pass with it's twenty-millimetre cannon. Luckily however, no-one was injured in any way shape or form. Although One-Two's pilot, Warrant Officer Veronica de Pomeroy, was docked a months pay for the near miss.

After each platoon had run their assaults and had their gear put away, showered off the sweat and dirt and had gotten some food in to them, all the members of 332 Battalion were gathered in the same meeting room where Ciaran had first met the collection of men and women, each one seated in the same seats as they first sat in, along with Darlton, Villetta and Nonette seated to his left against the wall. The last of whom was seeming to nearly burst in to a smile at any moment.

It was almost like the first time, except now the young man had very little to worry about around the soldiers. Plus, the large black television screen behind him was a definite change.

Looking over the faces of the soldiers, the young man took in a small breath before he began speaking.

"Ladies and gentlemen, before anything else, I would like to thank you."

This caught nearly everyone by surprise as he let what he said sink in, letting their reactions of shock and happy surprise play out before he continued speaking.

"I want to thank you for helping prove to me that the Fireforce concept does indeed work, and that it can be utilized by the Britannian military."

That was a half-and-half lie. Ciaran with definite certainty that the Fireforce doctrine did work and it worked very well, but he was unsure if it would work with a military like the Britannian military. But it never hurt to praise the men he would be working with.

"So no matter what happens to us, I want you to know, that all of this-" The young man opened his arms to gesture to the room as a whole. "-Was only able to be accomplished because of all of you, the Pathfinders and the army aviators. I just had an idea, but it was the lot of you that made it a reality. So... thank you."

The room was silent as the people digested what he had said. It was rarely often that a Britannian officer gave praise to the soldiers under their command, let alone thank them for what they had done. In fact, it was very likely that all of the officers who gave praise to the regular soldiers could be counted on both of a person's hands. So for a few seconds, no-one said anything, each person merely trying to collect their thoughts.

It was one of the aviators who spoke up, a man with olive skin and short, curly black hair under a light green beret, sitting up straighter in his chair before he spoke in an accent that reminded Ciaran heavily of the stereotypical American bayou accent. "You're welcome, sir."

It was only three words but it helped lighten the mood in the room, the young man nodding his head in thanks before he began speaking again.

"All right, since we have all been trained in the particulars of the Fireforce and that we have all become versed in it's application that I'm sure we could pull off a mission or two, but ultimately, that's not down to me. As I'm sure you're all aware, General Darlton is both the highest ranking officer present here and also the highest ranking military member of Princess Cornelia's Royal Guard, of which I am also a member." A look of realization hit the young man's face. "Which I have just realised is something I have not told you. Oh well."

Glancing to the side, Ciaran looked at the scarred general, who merely nodded for him to continue.

"As per his role, he has been keeping a consistent eye on our proceedings here and has been keeping the Second Princess abreast of the situation. And since she is the Field Marshal of Britannia, and also the head of all military operations in Area 11, she will have the final say on whether the Fireforce will be put in to effect."

Turning around, he walked over the screen, which was more like a touch-screen computer than a television. Bringing up the number pad, he entered the code that Darlton had given him to give a direct line to Princess Cornelia's office.

Combination entered, Ciaran took a step back as the screen in front of him was connected via satellite to the one in the Viceroy's Palace in Tokyo. Soon, the screen switched from pure black to reveal the inside of Cornelia's office from an angle, showing the purple-haired princess sitting in her stately chair, facing the screen, with her long legs crossed over the other. To her sides, stood Guilford and Dorothea, each one standing stiffly and at attention. In reply, all of the seated servicemen sat up straighter in their seats.

The young man inclined his head by way of a greeting before speaking. "Princess Cornelia, may I introduce you to the fine men and women of 332 Battalion."

Cornelia inclined her head in reply to him before she turned her head to look directly at the people seated across from her as Ciaran moved out of the way to let her address the soldiers.

"Thank you, captain. Ladies and gentlemen, as I'm sure you are aware, this unit was put together to test out a counter-insurgency tactic created by Captain Forsyth for our continued operations against the insurgent forces in Area 11. From the reports given to me from General Darlton, it seems that the young captain's work seems to be more than capable of giving us an edge against the forces arrayed against us here."

Ciaran couldn't fight the small giddy smile that his face at the praise given to him.

"However, it is also because of that situation that I must order the 332 Light Infantry Battalion to return to Area 11 tomorrow. Even though we are due to receive a full division from the Homeland in the next week, that does mean that your battalion, along with my Royal Guard, will be the only Britannian force in country to deal with the insurgency."

It very likely wasn't the news that everyone wanted to hear and, to be blunt, it wasn't the news Ciaran really wanted to hear either. While it did mean that it would allow him to see how the doctrine would fair against an actual enemy force, it would be one hell of a trial by fire.

Cornelia must have picked up on it as well, as her face slackened from her normally stoic visage in to a thin smile. "But for the remainder of today, you all have the day off. I do believe that you've earned."

Turning her head slightly, the Second Princess looked at Ciaran directly. "Captain Forsyth, I want to talk to you directly after everyone has left."

Ciaran nodded his head. "Yes, Your Highness."

"All right, you heard the Princess." Nonette said, suddenly clapping her hands together. "Everyone part from the captain, Darlton and myself; get out."

Ciaran just looked at the champagne-haired woman in confusion. She had been absent throughout the entire training, only showing up at meals and downtime to either lounge about or stuff her face. And yet here she was, acting like she commanded the entire battalion.

"Lady Ernst, I think that-" He began before he was interrupted by the Second Princess.

"No, she is right, Captain Forsyth. This does concern Darlton and herself, as well as you. Everyone else is to leave."

Seeing that there was no use in him arguing with the two noblewoman, Ciaran simply shrugged before turning to face the assembled soldiers.

"Well, you heard the Princess; Battalion! Dismissed."

Nearly as one, the woodland-camouflaged men and women rose from their seats and began filing out of the door. Some of them shot the young man a sympathetic look, while Villetta, walking out alongside the army aviators, merely look at him in confusion before she too left the room, leaving Ciaran, Darlton and Nonette alone with the television screen.

Turning on his heel smartly, the Briton looked at the image of Princess Cornelia in mild confusion. "What's going on that warrants all of us to be... where's Euphemia?" Ciaran began before noticing that the younger pink princess was absent.

"She's attending a small function with some lesser noblewomen who want to help out the Elevens in the ghettos." Cornelia said, sighing gently as she put a hand to her forehead and she uncrossed her legs. "But in all honesty, I'm glad she's not here. What I'm about to say, it would only upset her."

This caused Ciaran's brow to furrow deeper in confusion. ' _This could not be good._ ' he thought to himself as Cornelia reached a hand over to her desk and pulled up a thin black tablet which she began typing away at.

"Our security teams in the Palace have been tasked with working on any unidentified transmissions; phone, e-mail, what have you. On the Wednesday, they picked this up."

The sound of Cornelia tapping her finger sharply against the screen of the pad in her hands was replaced by a static laced message, the voice of the caller coming through very garbled but still distinct enough to hear.

"V, Target F is no-longer in country. From our sources, he has travelled to the Homeland for some task for the Second Princess. Will send another report when I have gained more info."

The young man's eyes opened wide as he took in what he had just heard. There was no way t dance around the facts of the issue: 'Target F' could be no-one else but him. But the main question now was: why?

Looking to his side, Ciaran saw that his shock was shared by Darlton and Nonette too as the general spoke up. "Do we know who the message was sent to?"

Cornelia shook her head. "I'm afraid not. But our technician teams are working on figuring where and whom received the message."

Nonette spoke up next, putting her hands against her hips. "So that's why you're bringing us home early."

"Indeed." The Princess said, nodding her head. "I do not doubt that, the three of you combined, even if we factor in the battalion under Ciaran's command, he would be more than well protected... but I'd feel safer to err on the safe side."

The shocked look on Ciaran's face fell away as he heard the soft tones in Cornelia's voice as she spoke, sounding so much like an older sister than a commanding officer or a princess. And it seemed like he wasn't the only one to notice either.

"When did you start getting a soft spot, Nellie?" Nonette asked, her usual cat-like smile coming back to the fore.

In reply, Cornelia merely let out a huff of indignation as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I've always had a soft side. It just seems that between Euphie and Ciaran, I've been able to act on it more." A sombre look came to her face as she continued speaking. "But if someone's targeting Ciaran, then there is the very real likelihood that anyone of us could be next. So we need to nip this in the bud as soon as we can. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Your Highness." Both Ciaran and Darlton intoned as one, bowing their heads in salute, with the Princess nodding her head in reply.

"We'll see you tomorrow, everyone." Dorothea said, waving her hand gently at the trio, which Ciaran returned before the connection was terminated. He didn't let it show on his face, but inside, his mind was kicking up a storm.

Someone was after him, that much was sure. Although for what reason, he didn't know, and right now, he was trying to figure out the possibilities of who could have it out for him.

Zero? Well, that was a given, but the truce was standing so he didn't imagine the man breaking it. If he did, Cornelia would definitely hunt him down herself.

Lord Hasselbach? Maybe. But the last he had heard, the man had been locked up in a jail cell, so he was out of the picture.

To be honest, those were the only two major people he could imagine trying to hire someone to follow him and, he realised with a lot less of a feeling of dread than he ever imagined having, kill him.

But what was the name of the contacted person again? V?

A single letter? Okay, that made some sense. He knew that a lot of spies in fiction used single letter code-names. M and Q from the James Bond films immediately sprung to mind. But something about the name struck him as odd...

"Penny for your thoughts there, mate?" Nonette's voice cut in to his thoughts, making his head shoot up, looking at the concerned faces of the scarred general and the Knight of Nine.

"No, I'm... just trying to take stock of this whole thing." Ciaran said, shrugging his shoulders. "This is really not a situation I imagined myself being in."

"That seems to be a common occurrence with you, isn't it, Ciaran?" Darlton asked, putting a hand on the young man's shoulder. Ciaran looked up at the older man as he so obliquely referred to the Briton's short history with getting himself in to situations he couldn't quite wrap his head around. "Come on. Let's get your gear packed up, then we can enjoy the rest of the day. How does that sound?"

"Wahoo!" Nonette yelled out, throwing her arms up above her head as she whooped in joy. "I know this brilliant burger place in Sacramento that does take out."

"We're not going out to eat?" Ciaran asked, not too surprised by the idea of Nonette being lazy enough to order a take out over actually eating out at a restaurant.

Seemingly jumping forward, the older woman put an arm around the young man's neck and, once again, pulled him in to the another sideways hug. But instead of the happy grin he had expected to see on her face, Ciaran was surprised to see a serious look on Nonette's face as she spoke. "Ciaran, there's some unknown persons out there looking for you, and we have absolutely no clue who that person is or whether they indeed to simply watch you or to do something more violent. But they've made one serious mistake."

"What's that?" The young man asked, arcing an eyebrow at her words.

"They decided to pick on one of my best friends." Nonette replied, grinning broadly at him before she quickly planted a small kiss on to his cheek.

This earned a chuckle from Darlton, the older man obviously enjoying the spectacle before he smiled at the young man as well. "She's right though. Whoever this bastard is, they mess with you? They mess with all of us in Cornelia's staff, and Nonette and Dorothea."

Ciaran smiled broadly at what the two said before shaking his head ruefully. "All right. But I don't want any complaints if you guys get caught in something stupid. Got it?"

"No promises." Nonette said, ruffling his hair before she walked past him towards the door. "I'm going to see if I can find the address to that burger place while you two get your stuff packed."

As the Knight of Nine left through the door, the general drew closer towards Ciaran. "I hope you don't mind us being this overly cautious about this."

Ciaran shook his head. "No, it's fine. Cornelia told me what she went through when Lady Marianne was murdered, and me getting captured at Narita brought those memories back for her. I don't want to put her through that again if I can help it."

The scarred general nodded his head in reply at what the young man said before patting him against his arm. "You'd make a good knight."

The young man shrugged in reply. "If you say so, sir. Come on, let's get our shit together."

* * *

The night was stifling and humid around the Sacramento Air Base as the figure moved across the road fro the entrance of the base before heading for the main soldiers bar. Dressed in the light blue barrack dress uniform of the Britannian army, allowing them to blend in effortlessly with the other soldiers that populated the air base.

The figure was a tall man, with close-cropped blonde hair, piercing blue eyes in a sharp angular face. His frame was slim but with well toned muscles, perfectly suited for the task at hand. As per regulations, he had to forfeit carrying any firearms, although using any on a military base was a definite death-wish for him due to the advanced detection systems they had on base to handle any negligent discharges. So his only weapon at hand was a five inch long blade sheathed in a special compartment at the back of his belt.

Walking through the door that lead in to the bar, the man wasn't surprised by what he saw: soldiers wearing their own clothes were clustered around the bar, drinking their beverage of choice while they conversed with their fellows. Some sat around tables, cards in their hands as they played a game of choice, while just at the edge of his hearing, the man could hear the sounds of a ping-pong ball being hit back and forth repeatedly at high speeds.

Looking around though, he couldn't see the person he was after.

"You're looking lost there, private." A thick drawling voice said from his side, making him turn his head. The voice came from a tall man with close-cropped brown hair and a moustache of the same colour, wearing a pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt sitting at a nearby table.

"Yeah, just a bit." The man replied sheepishly. "I'm trying to find Captain Forsyth? I was told he would be here."

"Nah, he's not here." The moustachioed man responded, shaking his head as he brought a pint glass to his lips and downed a mouthful of it. "He's with Lady Nonette and General Darlton."

'Ah, figures.' The blonde man said to himself before he actually responded. "Do you know where they are? I've got an important message to give to him."

"What's the message?" Another soldier, this time with short black hair, with a few teeth missing from his upper right jaw and wearing a black t-shirt with a heavy metal skull on the front, asked from the other side of the table.

Opening up his jacket, the man reached in and took out a small white envelope, holding it up for the pair to see. "I don't know what it says myself, but it's for the captain's eyes only."

The pair of soldiers nodded their heads before the one with the moustache suddenly yelled out. "Miss Villetta!"

Seconds later, the sound of footsteps drew their attention as, turning his head, the man saw a tawny-skinned woman with silvery hair dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans and a blue t-shirt walk around the corner. "What it is, Sergeant Patrick?"

"The private's got a message for Captain Forsyth. Say it's for his eyes only." The sergeant said.

The woman, obviously called Villetta, looked at the man in question sceptically. "Name and unit, private."

Standing stiffly, the man railed off the names he had been given by his handler. "Private Andrew Saunders, ma'am, 101st Imperial Infantry." All were fake of course. His name wasn't Andrew Saunders and he'd never served with the 101st, although he did have military experience.

Miss Villetta looked at him for a few seconds before she nodded her head. "And you've got the message, right?"

Holding up the envelope, Saunders nodded his head. "Of course, ma'am."

The woman looked at him shrewdly before turning around and walking towards the exit. "All right, I know where the captain is. Follow me."

Putting the envelope back in to his jacket, Saunders followed Miss Villetta out of the building and in to the night again. He had to admit, following this woman had to be the highlight of the night for him: through her clothes, he could see the lines of muscles at her back and legs which, while showing how strong she was, still made her look so feminine. And that wasn't to mention the beautiful swell and curves of her hips and rear in those jeans she wore.

Maybe he could try and convince Master V to let him do something with her as a sort of... danger pay after this mission.

The pair walked in silence towards what looked like the officer's barracks. Thankfully, it looked quite deserted as the pair entered in to the lobby of the place.

"He should be around here somewhere." Miss Villetta said, looking around the various entrances to the different hallways. "I know he'd be with General Darlton and the Lady Knight of Nine, but I'm not sure where."

"The Lady Knight of Nine?" That bit of information was not included in the mission briefing. He knew that Target F was travelling with General Darlton, but a Knight of the Round too? Who the hell was this guy?

Seeming to take a corridor at random, the pair continued walking, giving Saunders time to think over what he could do to complete this mission. The mission parameters were simple enough: execute the target by any means, confirm that he is dead, then exfil the area. Simple mission, one that he'd done numerous times on the Geass Order's orders. But those were usually against others who could afford to b executed.

But a captain of the Second Princess' Royal Guard? While he seemed to be with both one of the top generals of Britannia AND one of the Knights of Round? None of this seemed to make sense to him. But if Master V had personally chosen him for this mission, then the man really must have agreed that Saunders was that good an assassin as he knew he was.

But the only problem was trying to find the bastard.

Walking around a corner, they saw a young man with a fair growth of facial hair, dressed in a pair of light blue jeans, brown leather boots and a red plaid shirt standing in front of a vending machine, looking down at his hand as he muttered to himself.

"Oh, there he is." Miss Villetta said, gesturing to the man in question before she walked over to him. "Ciaran!"

Saunders let a thin smile come to his face. God loves the assassin's work.

"Hmm?" The man said, looking up from his hand as the pair approached him, giving Saunders a look at him in detail. He was definitely the match of the figure in the photo given to him. Stocky figure, head of dark brown curly hair and facial hair of the same colour, although there seemed to be some more blonde hairs around his mouth, probably from the Californian sun. Definitely the target. He thought he saw a pistol holster underneath his shirt, but he couldn't tell for sure.

"Oh, hey, Villetta." The captain said, turning to face the pair. "Glad you're here. Got any change for a fiver? I've not got enough coins for all the drinks I need."

"Yeah, I think so." Villetta replied, reaching in to a pocket of her own as she and the captain completely ignored the fact that Saunders was there. "How come we didn't you three at dinner anyway?"

"Ah, Nonnette wanted to order some burgers from this place she knew about, and you know what she's like with this sort of thing. So Darlton and me didn't really have a choice." The captain said as he moved to the drinks machine and began putting his money in to the drinks machine before punching in the code for the first drink. "But what kind of place doesn't include drinks in a take-out order? So who's this guy anyway?" He continued before gesturing to the only man in uniform.

Saunders straightened his stance up as the captain looked at him. He had to admit that the officer was definitely on the young side, but the blank look the older man was given was pretty good at being unnerving.

"Private Saunders, sir. 101st Infantry." He replied smartly.

"He says he's got a message for you. Your eyes only." Villetta explained as the first drink clattered out of the machine in to the holding tray.

The captain held out his hand flat in front of him. "Well then. Let's have it."

Opening his jacket slightly, Saunders reached inside and drew out the envelope. Closing his jacket, he handed the envelope to the young man who turned it over in hands.

"No address." He noticed.

"Well, if it's being hand delivered from one officer to another, then do you need an address?" Villetta asked, to which the young man nodded in agreement.

Standing in his place, Saunders waited as he watched Captain Forsyth opened the envelope, putting his hands behind his back. Shifting his hand slightly, he felt the grip of the blade slide effortlessly in to his palm. The blade, seven inches long, was diamond shaped, perfect for the stab: easy to slide in and on the pull, coupled with the twist needed to dislodge it when extracting it from it's target, meant it would leave horrible wounds that would need immediate attention to repair. Which none of his targets ever received of course.

As he watched the captain open the envelope, the man took the time to figure out what to do. With Miss Villetta near him, that would limit his chance of getting a clear attack in on the young man. He'd probably have to kill her first, then the captain. Which was the biggest injustice he'd seen in his line of work, but it had to be done. There was also the possibility of the captain having a weapon on him, which means that he'd have to deal with him first, then Miss Villetta. Plus, he'd never had to go after military personnel before, only politicians, men and women who had never fought an actual fight in their life physically, so this was a whole other game.

Two against one. Saunders had to admit that he'd faced worse odds. Plus, the weapon ratio was a pure 1:1, which improved things better.

Once again, God decided to throw him a bone as the captain moved away from the group as he read the letter, turning to the side a bit, like he was shielding the contents from them. To be honest, Saunders didn't have the slightest clue of the contents of the letter, so it could be a serious letter or it could be Master V taunting the man before he died. He didn't know.

"Brigadier-Colonel Upson sent this letter, did he, Private Saunders?" The captain asked, looking up from the letter slightly to look at the man.

That was not what he had expected to hear. Moving his hand as stealthily as he could, Saunders unsheathed the knife as quickly from it's resting place as he spoke. "Yes, he did, sir."

Nodding his head, the man turned to fully face the soldier a smile that he didn't expect to see.

"Ciaran, what's up?" Villetta asked before the young man held the letter in front of her to read.

Saunders expected that. But what he didn't expect was for the man to shove the letter against her body, hard, pushing her backwards against the wall, making her yell out in shock. Drawing his pistol, the captain tried to put as much distance between himself and Saunders.

Now that he expected.

Lunging forward, Saunders unsheathed his knife as he lowered his body below the barrel of the unusual pistol before suddenly standing up. Using his speed, the assassin brought his leg up, kicking his foot in to the man's hand, the pistol flying from the hand before using the same foot to slam in to the young man's chest, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Ciaran!" Villetta yelled out, seeming to have gotten over her shock at what had just happened. With an almost feral yell, the tawny-skinned woman barrelled in to Saunders' side, using her surprise and strength to try and knock him off balance.

Try being the operative word, as the man easily tensed and took the shock and weight of her body slamming in to his. Using her own momentum against her, Saunders grabbed her hard by the back of the neck and spun her on to her feet. Shifting his grip from the back to the front, the man pushed forward, adding his own body weight on to hers to slam her in to the drinks machine, hard. It wouldn't be enough to knock her out, probably enough to stun her. But it took her out of the fight, especially if the way her head lolled forward as she slumped to the ground was any indication.

"You bastard!"

The yell was the only warning Saunders got before he felt another weight slam in to his side and a pair of red arms wrap around his neck before he was brought to the ground in a jarring slam. His right shoulder slammed down hard as he landed on his arm before rolling back, the blade skittering from his grip before the assassin tried to right himself.

"You fucking cunt!" Captain Forsyth yelled as he climbed on to the taller man's chest and began laying punch after punch to his face. The hits lacked any force, which Saunders should have been thankful for, if it wasn't for the fact that the captain was throwing punch after punch in quick succession. Bringing his arms, the assassin shielded his face from the blows as he looked around for his weapon.

'Fuck' He swore in his head. The knife had skittered away from him and had gone underneath the drinks machine. No matter. He'd have to do this the truly old fashioned way. Moving them away from his face, Saunders' arms sprung up before his hands gripped tightly around the man's neck and began squeezing tightly as he pushed himself upwards, catching the target off guard and pitching him backwards.

Forsyth's eyes widened in a mix of fear and anger as the back of his head hit the carpeted floor, the fabric doing nothing to cushion his impact. Immediately began clawing and scratching at the hands around his neck, hoping to try and dislodge the attacker. In reply, Saunders tightened his grip, seeing his neck redden as capillaries under the skin began bursting. Soon the young man's eyes began reddening as blood vessels began appearing in the whites of his eyes. Behind him, he heard the man's feet kicking against the floor in a vain attempt to dislodge the taller and heavier man.

"Just give up, son." The assassin said, keeping his voice low. "It'll be over in a minute."

A strangled but angry snarl came from the captain as his hands gripped tightly on to his attackers wrists and began trying to force them off of him. Saunders couldn't help the sneer that came to his face as he fought against his opponent's strength. That was until he felt his left hand slip off of the neck, forcing it a few inches away from him.

He tried to force the hand back in to place, but the captain was fighting against the act, keeping it at bay as he tried to suck in some breaths of fresh air, even as Saunders' right hand tightened further around his neck.

"Nonette!" Forsyth cried out loudly, even if the hand around his neck took away some of the force.

The sound of a not-that-distant door slamming open and another woman calling the young man's name put the fear of God in to the man. Even more so when he heard the sounds of a pair of feet rushing down the corridor towards them.

Strangling the man wouldn't do it time. Saunders' needed a weapon. Looking around, he tried to find the knife he brought with him, but it was under the drinks machine. His eyes darted around the corridor as he turned his head around, keeping his arm on the captain's neck, even as he tried to wrench if off of him. Looking across the carpet, he say the pistol laying on the ground. It had to be a good ten feet away from them, but if he got to it, he could kill the man, the woman and himself before the Knight of Nine got to him.

Letting go of the captain's neck at the same time as he practically pounced in the direction of the fallen pistol, seeming to fly through the air as he went towards it. The flight was stopped short though, as he felt a pair of arms grip around his ankle and yank him back, hard. Looking back, Saunders saw his target, the man had been sent to kill, practically bear-hugging his leg, his eyes and face red and his breath sucking in ragged breaths.

Letting out a snarl of his own, the assassin turned his body and prepared to deliver a kick to Forsyth's face, trying to dislodge him from his leg. Putting his hands out to steady him, Saunders raised his free leg to deliver the kick before his right hand exploded with pain, making him cry out in pain.

Turning to look at the new combatant, his snarl fell away as he saw a black, calf-high boot pressing down hard on to his foot. In turn, the boot lead up to a long, well-toned leg clad in a white trouser leg, which lead up to a very tight black top with an intricate gold motif that contained a reasonably large bust. At any other time, Saunders would have stopped at the chest, but now he had to force his eyes further up.

The blue eyes of Nonette Enneagram, Knight of Nine, burned bright with anger, even as her normally attractive face was twisted in to an angry snarl.

"You stay away from my friend!" She yelled out as she raised her other foot, which she quickly brought around to strike the assassin in the face in a powerful roundhouse kick.

The assassin known as Andrew Saunders' world exploded in to pain for a brief second before his world fell in to blackness.

* * *

 **AN: I cannot apologise enough for this being late. The last month has not been kind to me. Work and money popped up again, which were exacerbated by my laptop going full shit nearly over the whole of the last week of July. Plus, I also had a minor episode of depression hit me and that... that did not help at all.**

 **So back to the story: not much to say on this one. The part of the Fireforce in action is a bit bare, I do know, but that's because I had literally nothing to go on. I was unable to find any sources that described what it was like to be a soldier in the Fireforce, so I had to use the Wiki article as the base and just go from there. Plus, turns out the helicopter I envisioned really wouldn't be just the Mi-24 Hind. It would be a combination of it and the Romanian IAR 330. I'm not sure if I did it's description justice, but I think I did quite well.**

 **Also, the ending part is a bit rushed, I know, but I did want to include it in this chapter since it really does have to do with things to come in later chapters. And since Izzy129 asked this question, there is something more to Ciaran and that's the reason why VV is out for him. I won't say what it will be, since it will be talked about in the next chapter.**

 **So, once again, sorry for the late posting. I'm honestly not sure how long the laptop I'm currently using will last well, but I'll try and get as much progress done on chapter 25. Technology, hey?**

 **As usual, read, enjoy and review. And don't forget that the TVTropes page needs help being updated, and there is also the Code Geass fanon wiki page to peruse. Cheers in advance guys.**


	25. Chapter 25

Standing in the hallway of the officer's barracks at Sacramento, Nonette fought to get her breathing under control. Her right foot throbbed slightly from the pain of delivering the kick to the face of the bastard assassin who had tried to kill her friend. The man was laid out at her feet, his hand still trapped under the Knight's foot as he had tried to reach for Ciaran's pistol.

"Ciaran!" She said to herself, snapping up her head and turning to look at the young man who was on the floor of the hallway and trying to crawl up towards the wall closest to him in an attempt to lift himself up. Even from the distance she was at, Nonette could hear his breathing coming out in ragged breaths and he was struggling to breath in. "Hold on!"

Quickly stepping over the fallen body of the assassin, the Knight of Nine rushed towards the young man and helped prop him up against the wall. Looking at him, she couldn't help but grimace at what she saw: his eyes had become red, while his neck was red all around with what looked like the beginnings of deep bruising on the sides in the shape of the bastard's fingers as well as marks from where his own nails had scratched at his skin. Thankfully though, his chest was rising and falling with regularity, so that meant that nothing was seriously wrong with him, even if he sounded like he had a rusty motor in his mouth.

"Ciaran, are you okay?" She asked worriedly, holding his shoulder gently as she propped him up.

After taking a few ragged breaths, he replied. "It hurt to talks."

Nonette couldn't help the short chuckle that came from her as she pulled the man in to a hug. Seeing him on the floor had filled her with fear, but right now, all of that vanished when Ciaran began talking.

"Nonette, what's going on?" She heard Darlton ask as he drew closer to them, his steady footfalls turning quickly from a walk in to an outright run as he came to their position. "Villetta!"

Turning her head, the Knight of Nine looked to the tawny-skinned woman who was slowly and groggily pushing herself up from her slumped position against the drinks machine, wincing and groaning as she began moving. Nearly in a flash, Darlton was by her side.

"Ugh... General?" Villetta asked, blinking slowly as she began looking around. She was definitely in a better state than her superior officer was.

"Hold on," Darlton said, kneeling down next to her. "Stay where you are. We'll get some help. Where's the battalion?"

"In... in the rec-room, sir." Villetta said groggily, reaching a hand up to rub at the back of her head. "Oh, my head kills."

"I'll be it does." The general said, chuckling slightly. "I'll go and get them. Nonette, look after them."

"Will do, Darlton." The Knight said, nodding her head as she watched the tall man stand up and run down the hallway and out of the door, leaving the three alone. Pulling herself up, Nonette moved over to Villetta and gently lifted her up. "Come on, Villetta. Come with me."

"O-okay." The tawny-skinned woman said wearily, moving a little stiffly as she was lifted up and walked over to where Ciaran was seated. As she was sat down, Villetta glanced over at the young man, and almost immediately, her physical trauma was forgotten in an instant. "Ciaran! Are you okay?"

"Not so loud." The young man rasped out, wincing as the woman next to him practically screamed in his ear. "But considering I've just had someone try to strangle me and my neck currently feels like I've swallowed a piece of flaming wire wool? I feel peachy."

The Knight of Nine couldn't help but chuckle at the sarcastic remark. "Save your voice, Ciaran. If you talk too much, you'll make it worse."

"Right-oh." Ciaran replied, giving the woman a thumbs up as he promptly shut his mouth.

Nonette smiled broadly before she lunged forward and pulled the Briton in to a hug, resting his head against her chest. This time however, there was no attempt to make him feel uncomfortable for her own enjoyment. The champagne-haired woman just wanted to try anything to alleviate the pain he was going through.

"I'm sorry." She said quietly as she cradled his head against her chest. "This is my fault."

Ciaran tried shaking his head as best he could as he croaked out. "No, Nonette. It's no- ow."

"No talking." Nonette said as she deftly swatted him on the side of his head. "But I'm serious. I was told straight up that someone was after you but I let you get those drinks on your own. This is all my fault."

The Knight of Nine saw the bottom of her vision begin to get blurry as tears began building in her eyes.

"Wha? What are you talking about?" Villetta asked, finally coming around from her concussion and she looked at Nonette tightly hugging her superior officer.

Sighing softly, the Knight of Nine turned her head and looked at the woman beside her. "After she contacted us to congratulate us, Nellie- that is, Princess Cornelia, told Ciaran, Darlton and myself to stay behind. She... she told us that someone was after Ciaran."

"Really? I'd never have guessed." Villetta responded sarcastically, which quickly fell away as she realised how much in bad taste that comment was. "Sorry, my Lady. Please continue."

"It's all right." Nonette replied, shaking her head ruefully. "I knew that Ciaran was in danger, but... I had to let him wander off on his own."

"I wouldn't call getting a drink 'wandering of'- ow! Hey?" The young man in her arms croaked out before he was once again swatted on the side of the head.

"I should have kept a better eye on you." Nonette said, ignoring his comment completely as she felt the first tears fall down her cheeks. "I promised that I'd protect you. And I failed."

To say the Knight of Nine felt horrible would be an amazing understatement. The only reason she had even managed to hear the young man's cry for help was because she had thought the sound of the fight had been the Briton getting angry at the drinks machine, and she wanted to hear the result. It had been pure chance that she had heard him yell out her name.

God, if she had been paying more attention to the TV...

A hand pressing softly against her right cheek made her jerk up in a start. Looking down, Nonette was met with a soft and gentle smile from Ciaran as he was still pressed to the top of her bust.

"That's the fourth woman I've made cry in the space of a month." The young man said, smiling up at her. "Maybe I deserved it."

Nonette's blue eyes widened at what she heard him say before, without even realising it, a chuckle began building in her throat, which soon turned in to a full-blown laugh, the sound rolling down the corridor.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, Ciaran." She said, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears from her eyes, as they turned from ones of sadness to mirth. "That was fucking smooth."

In reply, Ciaran merely shrugged before extraditing himself from her grip, moving back slightly to look at her fully, smiling sweetly.

The sound of the door at the end of the hallway banging open preceded Darlton's booming voice. "This way! Hurry!"

Turning her head, Nonette saw the large general hold the door open as half a dozen men rushed past him. Three of them were out of uniform, while one was carrying a large grey kit bag over his shoulders, while the other three wore the dark blue uniforms and scarlet berets of the Britannian Military Provosts, two of them carrying compact submachineguns while the third carried a shotgun.

"Captain Forsyth!" One of the men, the tall sergeant with blonde hair that Nonette had seen Ciaran talking to after their first exercise with the Valkyrs, called out as they rushed towards the pair. "Are you all right?"

The Briton merely raised his left hand in to the air, indicating that he was all right. Without a word, the three soldiers slowed down to a jog while the three provosts rushed past all of them and surrounded the unconscious assassin.

"He's out cold." One of them said as he knelt down to feel the man's pulse before looking up at Nonette. "Good kick, My Lady."

"I know how to deal with men." The lady Knight said simply, shrugging her shoulders, as the soldier with the large kit bag came next to her and Ciaran. The man was taller than Nonette, but a few inches shorter than Darlton, with a thick moustache of red hair that matched the short crop of hair on his head.

Setting his bag down, the man opened it up and began rummaging around inside it before pulling out a small torch, which he promptly switched on and brought up to Ciaran's eye level. "Captain, I'm CMT Second Class Bryan, but you can call me 'Doc'. Sir, I need you to look at the torch directly, all right?"

"Right-oh." Ciaran croaked out, turning his head to look at the medic's torch while Bryan held open the young man's eyelids, exposing the eye to harsh light from the hand-held torch. Nonette watched as his pupil contracted from the light, making the blue-green of Ciaran's eyes stand out more, although the bright red capillaries in the whites of his eyes were the main attention for them.

Turning her head slightly, Nonette watched as the provosts with the submachineguns slung their weapons, put a pair of handcuffs around the unconscious man's wrists before lifting him up on to his feet and began hauling him down the hallway. The third man had his shotgun trained on the man the whole time.

"Petechiae on the eyes." Bryan said as he switched off the light and began looking at the young man's other injuries. "Finger impressions and scratches on the neck. Can you try swallowing for me, sir?"

Turning back, the Knight of Nine watched Ciaran's throat move slightly as he swallowed a glob of spit, which produced a pained groan from the young man. "That hurt a bit." He rasped out.

Bryan nodded his head as he put the torch back in to his bag. "All right. Sir, we need to take you to the infirmary, since I want to get an x-ray of your neck to make sure nothing has been broken. Okay?"

"You're the doctor." Ciaran replied, forcing himself to stand up.

"Let me help." Nonette said, grasping his arm as she helped him stand upright, putting a hand against his shoulder to support him against her. Looking back slightly, she saw Villetta being helped to her feet by Darlton before walking her to the end of the hallway, the three soldiers escorting them the whole way.

Exiting the building, the Knight of Nine wasn't too surprised to see a pair of closed top Jeeps idling outside, waiting for them with doors open, ready to let them in. The provosts were busy putting the knocked-out attacker in to the back of the first Jeep while one of the soldiers, Sergeant Colbert Nonette reminded herself, held the rear door of the second vehicle open for their captain and the others to get in to.

"We'll be taking the prisoner to the infirmary," The scarred general said as he helped Villetta in to the back seat of the Jeep. "Lieutenant Fick, I need to go fetch the Provost Marshal about this whole thing. I trust you'll keep things under control until I return?"

The young lieutenant stood stiffly to attention as he responded. "You can count on us, sir."

Darlton nodded his head before turning to look at Ciaran and Nonette, giving both of them a wry smile before asking, "Think you'll be all right without me?"

The Knight of Nine returned the smile with a cocky grin of her own. "I think we'll be fine."

The general merely nodded in reply before he headed back in to officer's barracks. Taking that as her cue, Nonette helped Ciaran in to the back seat of the Jeep before climbing in with him, shutting the door behind her. Sergeant Colbert and CMT Bryan climbed in to the front, the latter in the driver's seat. Closing his door, the sergeant turned to look at the three in the back.

"We all good?"

The three nodded their heads, Villetta a little more slowly than the other two. Turning back to look at Bryan, the sergeant nodded his own head, non-verbally telling the medic to start the engine. Soon the two vehicles began rolling forward, quickly gaining speed before they were driving down the tarmac in the late evening light.

Turning to her side, Nonette put a hand on to Ciaran's head as she gently began stroking his hair. "Cornelia's gonna kill me."

"Why is she going to kill you?" The young man asked, looking at her in confusion. "Did you hear what she did to me the day before we left Area 11?"

Nonette shook her head.

"She nearly crushed my head with her bare hands."

This earned a chuckle from Nonette while Villetta looked at the two in confusion before she asked, "Why did she do that?"

"Because I went in to the Settlement by myself without telling her, or anyone else really, where I was going." Unconsciously, Ciaran brought his hands to rub the sides of his head softly. "That woman scares me sometimes."

"Nah, she's not scary." The champagne-haired woman said as she reclined in her seat. "She puts on a hard façade, but she's just a big softy."

Out of the corner of her eyes, Nonette saw all the people not currently preoccupied with driving turn and give her a very disbelieving look.

"You didn't know her when she was younger." She said in her defence. "Also, if you know anything about her relationship with her younger sister, you'll know that Cornelia is nowhere near the hard-arse she's made out to be."

Memories of a young, fresh-faced purple-haired princess, barely fourteen years old, sitting asleep at the desk in the room she and Nonette shared at Colchester Imperial Academy late at night, the desk top almost literally covered in textbooks and papers. The champagne-haired woman, a commoner who had proven her combat skills on the African continent and been selected for officer's training as a result, had warned her against working too hard and could only shake her head slightly in response before she gently placed a blanket around the snoozing young girl.

She couldn't help it. Looking after people younger than her was just something she did. It came naturally to Nonette, she never gave it a second thought.

The feeling of Ciaran taking her hand off of his head and move it down made her jolt a bit as she looked at the young man.

"Nonette, none of this is your fault." He said as warmly as his voice would allow. "Remember, you saved me. So Cornelia will thank you for that. What's happened... it's done, okay."

A small but happy smile came to the Knight's face as she felt Ciaran give her hand a gentle squeeze which she returned.

"Besides," The young man continued. "Cornelia is still going to give me a right bollocking when she hears about this."

Decided that silence was the best option, Nonette simply rolled her eyes at the young man's comment as she looked out of the window. She was on edge now, even if she didn't show it outwardly, and she was looking intently for any threats that might pop up. The sight of several military provost vehicles, their sirens blaring, didn't dissuade her from her search of anyone who sought to bring harm to her friend.

The groups Jeep arrived at the infirmary quickly. Outside of the building, a full fireteam of armed and armoured provosts stood guard, the lights spilling out from the infirmary doors casting the military policemen in ominous shadows.

A group of military nurses and a doctor came out, one of their number pushing a trolley before them. They approached Nonette and her group as they disembarked from the Jeep, one of the nurses going over immediately to Villetta to check her status while the doctor went to Bryan.

"All right." The Knight of Nine said to Ciaran. "Get on the trolley."

"I can walk." He replied simply.

"Ciaran, this isn't negotiable: get on the trolley." Nonette replied more sternly.

The young man opened his mouth to make a retort, but the stern look in the woman's blue eyes made him clamp it shut before he trudged forward and gingerly climbed on to the trolley.

"They're just taking you for an x-ray, sir." Bryan said as he detached himself from the doctor. "They got word that the person who attacked you is on the way here so they're asking me to look over him."

"I'll wait in the lobby for Lieutenant Fick." Sergeant Colbert said, which earned him a confirmatory nod from Nonette.

"I'll go with Ciaran." She said, in a tone that meant that everyone heard, "And no-one can tell me no". Everyone present nodded their heads before one of the nurses began pushing the trolley in to the lobby and down the hallway towards the x-ray room, Nonette's long legs easily letting her keep pace with the moving trolley. Word must have been sent ahead since none of the receptionists bothered to approach the moving trio, meaning they walked in an uncomfortable silence, the only sound being the _squeak-squeak-squeak_ of the trolley's wheels in motion before they came to their destination.

"I'm afraid that you'll need to wait in the viewing area, My Lady." The nurse said demurely, obviously a little frightened by being in the presence of a Knight of the Round.

Nonette kept her gaze at the nurse for a few seconds, making the other woman take a step back in fear, before she felt Ciaran lightly hit her arm.

"Be nice." He said.

The Knight looked down at the young man lying on his back before she gave him a small smile. "All right." She motioned behind her to the door that lead to the viewing room. "I'll be right in there."

Ciaran nodded his head before the nurse, trembling slightly, pushed the trolley with him on it the room with the x-ray machine, leaving the champagne-haired Knight to enter in to the viewing room.

Leaning against the wall, she watched through the window as her young friend was helped off the trolley and was put underneath the machine, before being blasted with the invisible waves to see what the damage was to the inner workings of his neck.

The sound of footsteps behind her made her turn around to see Villetta walking towards her. The tawny-skinned woman had her right hand behind the back of her head, a small sliver of white peaking out from behind her head, obviously some form of cold compress.

"My Lady." The woman said, bowing her head gently.

Sighing softly, Nonette turned her head back to look at Ciaran as an army nurse came and moved the x-ray machine away before helping him sit upright. "You know, I never really cared for you Purists in the slightest."

The woman behind her didn't make a sound, not that the Knight was that bothered. Her eyes were fixed on the Briton as one of the army doctors came and began talking to him about his injury. Instead, Nonette decided to keep on talking.

"Britannia claims that those who can should work with their best ability to better themselves, and this goes for Numbers and Britannians. If they have the ability to better their lot, by whatever means, then they should do it." Pushing herself from the wall, the Knight turned around and fixed Villetta with a cold stare. "In Area 11, we wanted to work on getting the Elevens out of the Correctional state and in to becoming a Developed colony. But throughout the seven years that we have been in control, your group has continually hamstrung any attempt to make it so."

"My Lady Knight of Nine, I WAS in the Purists-" Villetta began before she was cut off by Nonette.

"I don't care." She snapped, making the other woman flinch slightly. "Lady Villetta; you have been part of a group that has been fundamentally against letting people like Ciaran in to the Britannian army. So why did you agree to join this unit?"

Keeping her hand on the back of her head, Villetta moved her eyes in a darting fashion as a person who had become trapped would before her mouth opened in confusion, obviously unsure about how to answer. Her shoulders suddenly slumped as she realised that there was no excuse she could give to the older woman in front of her.

"Because... because he gave me a second chance." Villetta said simply. "He could have approached anyone, anyone, but he came to me and Margrave Jeremiah for help. Well, no, technically, we went to him, but he called for us to help him."

Nonette stared at the woman in front of her for a few seconds before she cracked a smile. "So you joined because he was nice enough to give you a second chance?"

In reply, the other woman simply shrugged. "Basically, My Lady."

The smile on Nonette's face broadened as she spoke. "It feels good when people are nice to you, doesn't it?"

The look on Villetta's face quickly morphed in to a look of confusion as she took in what the Knight of Nine had just said to her. "Wha-what are you trying to get at, My Lady?"

Taking a step forward, Nonette put a hand on to the woman's shoulder in a reassuring gesture. "You'll get it someday soon."

Even if the woman's face didn't show it, at twenty-nine years, Nonette had experienced more than her fair share of ups and downs, even before she became the Knight of Nine. It was true that for many of the nobility in Britannia, the champagne-haired woman was looked down on with disdain. This was a woman who flaunted so many of the societal rules of the aristocracy without a second thought, a woman who once practically burped in the face of Charles zi Britannia after his coronation as emperor (granted, she did apologise for that), a woman who always flirted with members of the Royal Family and the military, although she never did so with the intent to hurt and if anyone did fall for her flirtations and she realised that keeping together would not end well, she always let them down easy. This was a woman who had killed men and women in personal and Knightmare combat, who had seen the military might of Britannia steam-roll over other nations with impunity and had seen the worst of humanity given form in the fires of combat, but had come out smiling on the other side.

Why she was capable of smiling after all she had seen, even she didn't know. But she knew one solid fact about the world: treat a person nicely, and they will treat you nicely in return. It may take a while, like with Nellie, but it'll happen sooner or later.

"Ciaran." Villetta simply said, looking past the older woman and behind her. Releasing her grip, Nonette turned around and saw the young man standing behind her. He still looked worse for wear from the attack, but at least now he had been given a bright white bandage to wrap around his neck, the sight of which caused her to smile.

"Any damage?" The silver-haired woman asked, causing the young man to shake his head.

"Nothing serious. Just a little bit of bruising, but nothing broken."

Nonette smiled before she spoke up. "You know that if Nellie sees you in that, she's going to freak, right?"

Ciaran merely nodded his head before responding slowly. "Ee-yup."

Reaching forward, the woman quickly patted the young man on the shoulder, smiling broadly at him. "Don't worry about it. We'll sort it out before leave tomorrow."

"If we leave tomorrow." Villetta suddenly said, making both Nonette and Ciaran turn and look at her, forcing her to elaborate. "General Darlton's back with the Provost Marshal. And he is not happy."

"How bad is it?" The young man asked.

"Well, he's brought a full fireteam of soldiers, which is never a good sign." The noblewoman replied, removing the compress from the back of her head. "As for the man himself? I don't know. I've yet to see him."

"Got it." The young man said, trying to straight up his appearance. The Knight of Nine couldn't help but chuckle at the young man who was currently looked more like an Appalachian lumberjack than a Britannian officer, prompting him to look up at her in confusion. "What?"

"Nothing," She said, shaking her head. "Just that I don't really think you're going to improve the Provost Marshal's mood any time soon. Still, let's not keep him waiting."

Turning smartly on her heels, Nonette lead the way for the officers, knowing the likeliest place for Darlton and the Provost Marshal to be. It didn't take long for them to go from the x-ray room and towards the main waiting room and, just as she had anticipated, General Darlton was standing and talking to an equally tall man with a large dark blue cloak hanging over his shoulders and a scarlet topped peaked cap upon his head. From the side, she could see that the man had a thick brown moustache that reached up to his sideburns and connected with his hair. To his back, the unmistakeable sight of dark blue uniformed provosts, each one wearing body armour and carrying a either a submachinegun or a shotgun in their hands. Across from them, she saw Lieutenant Fick and Sergeant Colbert standing off to the side at parade rest, trying their best to look not intimidated by the large number of armed provosts.

"That's the Provost Marshal." Nonette whispered to Ciaran. "So be respectful."

"Got it." The young man replied as the three stepped forward before stopping short of the two officers while Ciaran and Villetta stood stiffly to attention. "General Darlton, sir."

Stopping his conversation, the scarred general turned to look at the three new arrivals, before nodding his head in greeting. "What's the word on your condition, captain?"

"Nothing is broken. The larynx is okay so there's no immediate danger, but the injuries on my neck will be there for a good while yet."

The general nodded his head before turning to look at the man beside him. "Good. Captain Forsyth, allow me to introduce you to Richard Stirner, the Provost Marshal for Sacramento Air Base and the whole West Coast."

Looking to her side, Nonette saw that Ciaran didn't let any emotion come to his face as the Provost Marshal stepped forward and began scrutinizing the young man. The taller man was definitely intimidating enough: a rough square face with naturally questioning, green eyes, which was a look further enhance by the man's large eyebrows.

"So this is your new protégé, eh, Darlton?" The man asked after a few seconds of silence. "I'll admit that he doesn't look like much, but I won't say anything about it. Do you feel up to questioning, young man?"

Ciaran nodded his head before he rasped out. "Yes, I am, sir."

Stirner nodded his head in reply. "Right then. We just have to wait for one more person..."

As if on cue, the doors to the waiting room opened and in walked the man that probably no-one wanted to see at that moment, Brigadier-Colonel Upson, flanked by two more soldiers. Like the provosts, they were dressed in full gear and were obviously spoiling for a fight, although that desire quickly fell away when they saw that they were significantly outgunned and outnumbered.

The base commander, however, was unperturbed. "So what's all this about, General Darlton?"

It was Stirner who replied for him. "Brigadier-Colonel Upson, at approximately nineteen-hundred hours, Captain Ciaran Forsyth, of the Second Princess, Princess Cornelia li Britannia's Royal Guard and commanding officer of the recently formed 332 Light Infantry Battalion, was the target of an attempted assassination by an unknown party. As base commander, this attack falls under your area of command."

It brought Nonette no small amount of pleasure to see a look of shock fall across Upson's face.

"Are you implicating me in this whole affair, Provost Marshal?" The blonde-haired asked in a roar, obviously enraged by the idea.

"Surprisingly not, brigadier-colonel." The moustachioed military policeman said, turning his head to look at Ciaran, obviously waiting for him to explain the situation.

"The assassin approached me, under the guise of wishing to deliver a letter to me." The young man rasped out. "The letter was a letter congratulating me for the creation of 332 Battalion. Signed by you, brigadier-colonel."

'Which was not something you would do', was the part unsaid, and the blonde-haired senior officer gave a small snort of amusement in reply.

"Now that was a stupid thing for the assassin to do, wasn't it?" Upson asked, looking quite pleased by the change in events.

"Indeed, brigadier-colonel," Darlton replied. "Your... disdain for those beneath you is well documented."

"Agreed. However, I do believe that you should see this." Stirner said before he reached underneath his cloak and took out a slightly crumpled sheet of paper. From Nonette's memory, it was the same sheet of paper that the assassin had handed to Ciaran, which the man promptly handed to Upson. The brigadier-colonel quickly glanced down at the bottom of the paper before giving a snort in derision.

"This is obviously a fake." Upson said flatly. "I'd remember signing such a document, and I never signed this one."

"Indeed, brigadier-colonel." Stirner said before he began slowly walking towards Ciaran and the two women with him. "Which gives us a disturbing implication; that someone with easy access to Upson's signature chose to target the young captain for assassination. Which begs the question, Captain Forsyth; can you think of anyone from a high position who would want you dead?"

Looking out of the corner of her eye, Nonette saw Ciaran chew his lower lip slightly as he thought over the question before he shook his head. "The only person I could think of is currently in jail, sir."

"And who would that be?" Stirner asked, taken aback by the young man's claim before turning to look at Darlton, who was suppressing a big grin, for confirmation.

"Lord Augustus Hasselbach." The scarred general said after getting his humour under control. "He was... heavily implicated in the trafficking of Refrain in to Area 11. But he's right; the man's not in a position to send an assassin after the captain."

The Provost Marshal hmm-ed in reply as he took a step back. "This is intriguing..."

Nonette couldn't have agreed with him more, too. When she had heard that someone was after Ciaran, her mind immediately moved to the nobleman in question as being the one behind it. It was a truth that, if slighted in any way shape or form, many Britannian nobles would hire someone to deal with whoever they felt had wronged them, and it wasn't too hard to imagine a noble hiring someone while they were in prison.

There was the question of Zero being behind it, but the Knight knew that if he did try anything, then Nellie would on him faster than flies on a cow turd.

It seemed like the most likely outcome: a disgraced Britannian nobleman sending an assassin after the man who helped send him to prison. But something about the whole thing didn't sit right with her...

"Still-" Stirner said, snapping Nonette out of her thoughts. "- We won't be able to answer these questions just by looking at this piece of paper. Where is the assailant?"

"In infirmary ward one, Provost Marshal." Fick spoke up quickly.

"You heard the lieutenant. Infirmary ward one." Stirner said to his armed followers. At the command, half of the number moved forward, obviously intent to be the vanguard for the group. Soon the group was walking towards the indicated room, the unarmed officers walking in the middle of the ring of armed soldiers, everyone on edge because of the events of what happened earlier.

Looking to her side, Nonette saw Ciaran fiddling with the bandage around his neck, grimacing slightly at the discomfort he was obviously feeling. Reaching over, the woman took his hand gently pulled it down.

"You'll just make it worse." She chided him softly, earning a sheepish smile from the young man as he withdrew his hand from his neck.

"Sorry." Ciaran said in reply, before Nonette put her hand on to his shoulder gently.

"Don't apologise." She said soothingly. "None of this is your fault."

Ciaran smiled at the comment, which made Nonette smile in turn, before he turned back to look at the approaching door to the infirmary, the smile quickly becoming replaced by a look of apprehension. She couldn't really blame him: an investigation by military police was something that was capable of terrifying anyone, and to have to face that sort of thing alone... well, that was probably the most single terrifying experience for anyone.

Reaching out her hand again as the group reached the infirmary, the Knight of Nine opened her mouth to speak, ready to give her friend some words of comfort, but was cruelly cut off by the shrill sounds of a heart monitor going crazy and the resulting shouting that resulted from said noise.

"What the hell is going on?" Stirner asked before he barged forward past his vanguard, General Darlton close on his heels. Moving quickly, all of the others quickly followed in behind the two senior-most officers, piling in through the double doors in to the room while the soldiers moved aside to form a cordon outside the door and just to get out of the way.

Rushing inside the pristine white room, Nonette only had a few seconds to take in the details of the room; the various beds lined up in two rows against both rows, the various bits of medical equipment ready for use, and focused only on the scene that was playing out to her left: the formerly unconscious assassin was lying... no, spasming on one of the beds, his mouth frothing and his eyes rolled back in to his head. His chest was stripped bare and he had numerous leads stuck to his chest, ones which fed the information to the machine he was hooked to that he was dying. Around him, a few army nurses and CMT Bryan were trying their best to keep him alive, the red-haired medical officer angrily trying to figure what he could do to keep the man alive.

"God-fucking-damnit!" The medic roared as he began compressing the man's chest, trying to get his heart to start. But the sound of the heart monitor flat-lining told everyone that his efforts were all for naught.

"Well there goes that line of questioning." Sergeant Colbert spoke up from behind Nonette, the man shaking his head. Beside her, she saw Ciaran put a hand against his head in annoyance.

"We should have bloody seen that coming." He said in annoyance, his raspy voice making his anger come through even clearer. "No assassin worth his salt would allow himself to be taken alive. Let alone let someone question him."

The Provost Marshal let out a groan in annoyance before he removed his hand rubbed at his short brown hair in frustration. "Too true. Damn."

The mood in the room quickly sobered at the realization: the main key suspect for the whole thing was dead, leaving them with nothing but a forged letter and an unknown motive. Hardly a good starting point for an investigation.

"What did this man say his name was?" Stirner asked, looking at the young captain.

"Uh... Saunders. Andrew Saunders." Villetta replied quickly. "He said he was with the 101st Imperial Infantry."

"The name is probably a cover, but it's something we can trace." The Provost said before he turned to one of his adjutants. "Get a lead on that name, and get this man's dental imprints. Try and find them on record."

"Yes, sir!" The man responded, with a smart salute before he quickly walked off, taking two other soldiers with him, before the Provost Marshal turned to look at Darlton. "I trust that you'll be staying put for the duration of this investigation?"

"Afraid not." The scarred general said, quickly shaking his head. "The battalion is needed back in Area 11. Orders of the Second Princess. Sorry."

Stirner let out a low 'huff' in reply. "That does scupper things a bit. But I think that since there's a possibility that the person behind the orchestration of the attack is in Area 11, then I'll send what information I can find over to my counterpart there. Good?"

"That sounds good." Darlton said nodding his head, Stirner returning the gesture before he turned to look at Nonette.

"You do know that I'm going to have to send my initial report about this to the Lord Knight of One, right, Lady Nonette?"

The champagne-haired woman simply shrugged her shoulders. Standard procedure whenever a Knight of the Round got involved in something with the Provosts. "Wouldn't be the first time. Hell, I think he'll be glad that I didn't do anything wrong for once."

Stirner gave a small snort of a laugh as he shrugged his shoulders, before shaking his head. "Well, I'll begin my work. Until the morning, as by my rank of Provost Marshal, the men and women of 332 Battalion will be confined to their quarters. Extra guards will be posted outside the rooms of the officers, so I suggest that you all bunk up."

At the suggestion, a wicked light came to life in Nonette's eyes before her mouth morphed in to a cat-like smile. Reaching up slowly, she snaked one of her hands around Ciaran's back before quickly grabbing on to his shoulder and pulling him tightly in to a full body hug, with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs.

"Dibs." Nonette simply said.

"Oh come on..." Ciaran drawled out in response to the few smirks and sniggers the action generated from some of the soldiers around them.

She knew that the young man was uncomfortable about the whole situation, but for the Knight of Nine paid them no attention as she looked at the body on the bed, the former assassin's eyes staring vacantly up at the ceiling. Her arms tightened slightly around the young man's body in a protective gesture that no-one else noticed.

As she watched a thin line of spittle drip down the side of the corpse's cheek and on to the pillow, one thought entered her mind: Someone was going to pay for this.

* * *

The Provosts had quietly and closely escorted Ciaran and co back to the officers barracks, guarding the captain and the lieutenant as they went about gathering their bags before they took them to the rooms they were sharing; Ciaran with Nonette and Villetta with Darlton. Even with the current circumstances, the young man took a small amount of perverse pleasure from the fact that Villetta would have to deal with Darlton's snoring this time around.

He had expected the Knight of Nine to be all over him in some form or another as soon as he arrived in her room. Instead, she was acting... distant was definitely not the word to use, since she would practically not leave his side almost as soon as he entered the room. She just seemed... very protective around him. The best example was when they had decided to try and watch some TV, at her suggestion, to put what happened out of their minds. Ciaran couldn't pay any attention to what was going on on the screen, not least in part because it was a Britannian TV-show he knew absolutely nothing about, but mainly because Nonette had curled herself up against him in a very protective posture. It also didn't help that she kept turning her head to look at the door.

It was obvious that she was on edge about something, even if she didn't let it show on her face.

Dressed in a pair of red tartan pyjama bottoms while pulling one of his plain white t-shirts gingerly down over his head, Ciaran let out a sigh as he turned to look at his reflection in the mirror of the bathroom of Nonette's room. It was astounding how quickly a day could turn from something brilliant in to something dreadful.

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad sharing a room with me, is it?" The Knight of Nine asked from the open door, a pair of pillows and a blanket held in her hands.

"What? No." The young man said quickly, turning to look at the older woman behind him. "It's just... this day just started so well. Now..." He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

"I know what you mean, Ciaran." Nonette said sympathetically. "To be honest, even if Nellie hadn't given us that information, I was looking forward to having just you, me and Darlton having a nice meal together."

"Really?"

"Yeah! I mean, we've never had a meal just the three of us, have we?" Nonette said shrugging her shoulders while looking at him.

For his part, Ciaran just blinked at her for a few seconds before his face dropped and he brought his hands up to cover it. "Oh fuck. Oh, Nonette, I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" The Lady Knight asked, looking at him in confusion.

"I just... I really feel like this is somehow my fault." He replied, removing his hands from his face to look at Nonette. "I mean-"

"Stop it." The Knight of Nine snapped. Looking at her face, Ciaran couldn't help but flinch at the glare that was being directed at him. "Ciaran, none of what happened was your fault. Do you know why peopled send assassins?"

He shrugged in reply. "Because they want to remove someone."

"Because whoever sent them is scared of the target. They're scared of what that person can do to them, so yes, they want them removed." She said, shifting the things in her hands to her side so she could point a finger at the young man. "So you should take that as a compliment: you've freaked someone out enough to want them to get rid of you. I know I would."

Ciaran couldn't help but look her blankly for a few seconds before he shook his head in disbelief. "You're incredible, Nonette."

Her characteristic smile quickly came back to her face. "I know I am. You ready for bed?"

Not waiting for an answer, Nonette turned around and headed to the couch in her room, giving Ciaran a view of her outfit from the back: a white T-shirt with a logo of a KMF Fighting League team, The Fire Balls, along with a pair of black panties and that was it, although her undone hair obscured a fair part of the logo on her back. It wasn't really that jarring to see her dressed like that, but while it still made his cheeks redden, there was still something about the whole situation he couldn't get over.

"Nonette, are you really sure you want to sleep on the couch? I mean, it is your room. By all rights, I should be the one on the couch and you should be in the bed." He asked as he followed her out of the bathroom and in to the main room, where she padded over to the couch and began setting up her stuff.

"Because it's safer." She simply said as she bent over and fluffed up the pillow, giving the young man a whole view of her full and lace covered rear before standing back up to look at him. "If you were to sleep in here and someone tried to come after you, you'd be dead without me being able to do anything. This way, with my superior skills as the Knight of Nine, if anyone tried anything, you'll have nothing to worry about."

Okay, it made some sense, Ciaran had to grant her that.

"But what if they sneak past you and come in to the bedroom?" He asked.

"You've got your gun." The woman said simply, talking about Ciaran's holster hanging from his belt over one of the top corner bedposts like in one of Clint Eastwood's Westerns.

"Yeah, fat lot of good it did me last time..." He grumbled out before turning towards the bedroom. "You ready to go to sleep?"

"You bet." Nonette replied as she climbed underneath her sheet. "Just switch off the light when you go out."

"Will do. Good night."

"'Night."

Exiting the room, Ciaran pressed his hand against the switch on the wall and plunged the room in to darkness before he made his way in to the co-opted bedroom. It wasn't really anything spectacular really, being much more plain than the bedroom he had at the Viceroy's Palace. Which for a few short nights stay wasn't a bad thing. Moving in to the room, switching off the light as he went, Ciaran climbed under the covers and put his head against the soft, downy pillow. Reaching up, he groped around a bit in the darkness until his hand touched the grip of his pistol.

Drawing the weapon from it's holster, he gave it a quick going over with his fingers: the safety was on but the hammer was cocked. One round had been chambered, ready for any follow up attacks, so he replaced the weapon in it's holster and tried to settle in for some sleep.

Tried being the operative word.

When he closed his eyes, he couldn't see the normal blackness that would normally greet him as he tried to fall to sleep. _Instead he was greeted with the same corridor he was in before. Turning this way and that, Ciaran saw that both ends stretched off for miles in both directions. The only discernible break in the infinitely stretching hallway was a figure dressed in a pale blue uniform with blonde hair._

" _Just give up, son." The assassin said in a horribly raspy voice. "It'll be over in a minute."_

 _Terror seized Ciaran's limbs, holding him tight to the spot as he tried to turn and run away. In a heartbeat, the man was on him, bearing him down the ground, his hands seizing tightly around the Briton's neck as he had tried to choke him to death again. Looking up, Ciaran saw the man's face twisted in a horrifying grin which revealed bright white and sharp teeth as his eyes bored in to intently. Only instead of a pair of normal blue eyes, they were animalistic orbs, the slitted pupils filled with anger and fire as they stared at him._

 _As his grip tightened around Ciaran's neck, the young man tried moving his hands to either dislodge the hands around his neck, he found that he was unable to move them. Attempting to move them, he felt as though his hands and his limbs were buried in something sticky but at the same time solid. Tilting his head slightly to the side, his eyes opened wider in terror than they were before as he saw that the fabric of the carpet had morphed in to something viscous, almost like slime, and what was worse is that it was dragging him down._

 _No matter how hard he fought against them, the slime floor and the assassin were making him sink deeper in to the ground. He could feel it creeping up his face, the sludge becoming alive as it sought to assist the assassin in killing him._

 _The man's face was changing too, twisting as he bore down on to Ciaran. The skin was slewing away slowly, almost like it was melting as it slid down on to the young man's face or merged with the slime around them, revealing the man's skull underneath with his eyes still in their sockets, still fixated on Ciaran's demise. With those sharp skeletal teeth leering at him evilly._

 _His vision began going black, either from lack of oxygen or from the slime coming up to envelope him, he wasn't sure. But despite it all, he tried crying out for help, shouting any name he could thing of in a raspy voice._

" _Go on, scream all you want," The demonic assassin taunted as his voice took on a duel-tone quality, sounding both high-pitched like a child's and low like a grown man's. "No-one's going to safe you this time!"_

 _The man let out a booming laugh which echoed through Ciaran's ears even as he felt himself be submerged in to blackness, while at the very limits of his hearing, he heard someone calling out his name, a woman's voice calling out to him..._

Ciaran suddenly felt his whole body be pulled upwards as Nonette yanked him upright before she practically screamed in to his face, "Ciaran, snap out of it!"

Snapping open his eyes and clearing away the darkness as the harsh light of the bedside lamp filled his vision, the young man was met with a look on the champagne-haired woman's face that he never thought he'd ever see: a look of abject fear on the her face.

Opening his mouth, Ciaran tried to speak her name but he could only get a single syllable out before pain shot through his neck. Looking down, his eyes opened wide as he realised why Nonette had look so terrified: his own hands were clasped around his neck.

His body began trembling as he moved his hands away and he looked down at them, his hands shaking almost violently as he tried to work his mouth, to say something, anything.

"Ciaran?" Nonette asked, placing her hands on to his shoulders.

"I... I..." He stammered out, looking up from his hands in to the Knight of Nine's blue eyes before his vision became blurred with tears and his body pitched forward to collide with Nonette's chest, the woman easily withstanding the impact. Although she obviously didn't expect for the young man to began sobbing his hear out.

"Hey hey hey." Nonette said, trying to calm Ciaran down, gently pulling him in to a hug. "Ciaran? Wha-what's going-"

"Nonette, I'm scared!" The Briton bawled out loudly. "So much is happening so quickly, and none of it's making sense."

"What are you talking about?" Nonette asked, gently taking the young man's face in her hands as she lifted it up so she could look at it properly, even as tears streaked down his cheeks.

"Everything that has happened since I arrived in Area 11; Saitama, Kawaguchi, I thought I could handle it all, and it looked like I could. But then everything started changing, at Kitakyushu, at Nagano and Narita. Everything was coming, so much and so quickly; being asked to figure out how to fight the Black Knights, being given command of a battalion. And now THIS!" He practically screamed out the last word, before his voice dropped in volume. "Nonette... I'm scared."

And it was true. At Kitakyushu, Nagano and Narita, his fear of combat had been tempered by the fact that he truly wasn't facing ant of the dangers by himself and he could call on someone for backup. But this; the assassination attempt. That had been foiled purely by chance. If that man had caught Ciaran by himself, if Villetta had just walked away when she had introduced them, if he hadn't called out Nonette's name when he did...

The young man didn't fight the tears that came to him as he slumped forward again, feeling Nonette move her hands from his face and on to his shoulders as she pulled him in to a hug. She didn't say anything to him, just letting him bawl his eyes out to his hearts content. Moving slowly, she shifted her body to lie down on the bed before she gently pulled down Ciaran with her, bringing him to lay gently against her chest.

"It's all right, Ciaran." The Knight of Nine whispered softly, like she wanted him and only him to hear her words. "Just let it out."

Reaching over Ciaran's body, she felt around for the switch for the lamp before flicking it off, plunging the pair in to darkness once more, the sound of the young man's sobs filling the space before they petered off in to quiet sobs.

The nightmare didn't return.

* * *

It was the loud sound of base's bugler playing his instrument loudly through the loudspeakers around the base that roused Ciaran from his sleep, making him groan as he came out of his sleep slowly, pushing his head in to his pillow. But the music wasn't going anywhere fast, so the young man was cruelly pulled from his sleep. Groggily turning over, he opened his eyes slowly as he fumbled around for the mobile phone he had put on to his bedside table the the night before before finding it and reading the time display.

5:00

Managing to bring himself out of sleep slowly but surely, the young man laid down on to his side to let him get his bearings. His eyes stung a bit, forcing him to blink quickly. His pillow and cheeks were wet too, which made for an uncomfortable bed to lie on. Pushing himself up to lean on his hands, he looked at his pillow and the giant wet stain on it in confusion.

"What happened last night?" He asked himself, honestly confused.

The sounds of someone groaning softly behind him made Ciaran turn on the spot to see Nonette lying in the bed beside him, making his eyes open wide in shock. Her long hair was strewn around her head, giving her a champagne-green halo against the pillow, while her t-shirt was slightly bunched up around her waist, revealing a very trim and subtle set of abs. But other than that, nothing looked out of the ordinary.

He moved his neck to the side, to try and get a crick out of the bone, before pain lanced up through the neck, making him groan out loudly in discomfort.

In return, Nonette gave out a groan of her own at Ciaran's loud exclamation as she woke up, blinking her eyes slowly before turning to look at the young man next to her.

"Good morning." She said, stretching her arms above her head as she pushed her torso up as she worked out the kinks from her back. "Did you sleep better?"

"... a little bit." Ciaran said, smilingly sadly. "You?"

"Like a log." The Knight of Nine replied as she sat upright. Beside her, the young man just sat still, looking down at the foot of the bed.

He was ashamed of what had happened to him last night. It had been been the second time since arriving in Area 11 that he had broken down in front of someone he trusted, but this time, it probably had to be the most serious one. Ciaran knew that she had taken it all in stride but he had no idea how she would take it in the morning.

"I'll go for a shower first, if you don't mind." Nonette said, climbing out of the bed and headed towards the bathroom.

' _Ah, fuck it._ ' The young man said to himself. "Nonette, I-gah!"

A t-shirt being thrown at him full force in the face cut Ciaran off mid-sentence as it covered his face. Taking it off quickly, the young man was ready to retort but the sight before him made him shut his mouth. It wasn't the fact that Nonette was standing no more than three feet in front of him in just a pair of panties, with her hands on her hips and her bust fully on display to him (although he would not deny that that was part of the reason). It was the simple stare she directed at him; a blank stare that at the same time seemed to burn right through him.

"If you think you need to apologise to me: don't." She said flatly. "When you're out there, with all the soldiers, you can act like a hard-arse all you want. But don't try and pretend to be something you're not with me."

Ciaran's eyes opened wide at her words, and even more so as she climbed on to the bed and crawled towards him, her hair falling down the sides of her face as she moved towards him until her face was scant inches away from his.

"Ugh, Nonette? What are you-ow." Once again, he was cut off mid-sentence as Nonette suddenly leaned forward, bumping her forward gently against his head, leaving it there as she put a hand on to his shoulder and closed her eyes.

"Ciaran, if you keep it all in, you'll break apart." Nonette said softly as she nuzzled her forehead against his. "I've seen it before: men and women who think that because they're in positions of power, they need to keep everything bottled up. They're scared that if they let people see their weakness, so they suppress every thing. But then something happens and they snap. Sometimes people turn violent. Sometimes... they lose who they used to be. I don't want to see that happen to you."

The Briton didn't say anything. Although what could he say? She had acknowledged his break down, and had comforted him when he needed it. She had stayed with him all night, and had not changed her opinion of him in the morning.

Bringing his hands up, Ciaran wrapped them around Nonette's shoulders as he pulled her in to a hug of his own, resting his head against the side of hers as a smile spread across his face.

"You're a good friend, Nonette." He said.

"I try to be." The woman said, before she moved away from the young man and climbed off the bed. "Now, I'm going for a shower. Don't worry, I'll be quick."

Ciaran nodded his head as he watched the woman saunter away from him, swaying her hips from side to side as she went, making the young man roll his eyes before the sound of the shower running reached his ears. Still seated on the bed, he turned to look at the phone sitting on the bedside table before reaching over and pulling it to him. Flipping open the screen, he pressed the series of buttons which brought up his contacts.

Cornelia. Darlton. Dorothea. Euphemia. Guilford. Nonette.

All of them were people he had befriended and had eventually come to love in some form. They had seen him in various states of distress, in some form or another; Cornelia, Darlton and Guilford had been the first ones to meet him after all, Euphemia and Darlton had been with him after Saitama, Dorothea and Cornelia had helped him after Kitakyushu and he had learnt from the Second Princess how deeply him being taken captive had affected her.

Ciaran knew that he could trust any of them with anything, especially Cornelia from his interactions with her. And if he began acting oddly, he knew that he could count on at least one of them to help him deal with it.

He was tempted to send a message to one of them, but he was not wholly sure of the time difference between Sacramento and Tokyo so he decided against it. Besides, the sound of someone knocking on the door drew his immediate attention.

"Ciaran! Door!" Nonette called out from the shower as the young man climbed off of the bed.

"Already on it!" Padding across the floor quickly, using the bottom of his t-shirt to wipe at his face to get rid of any tears that still remained before he approached the door and opened it. He was not all that surprised to see that it was General Darlton on the other side of the door. "Ah. Good morning, general."

"Good morning, Ciaran." The scarred man said happily. "Is Nonette up?"

"Shower." He replied, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

"Ah good. So she can wake up before noon." Darlton said in good humour, before looking at the young man in slight confusion. "Are you all right, Ciaran?"

"Ugh... in truth, sir? N... no. Not really." Ciaran admitted hesitantly before stepping to one side of the door. "I'll tell you inside."

The general nodded his head before stepping inside Nonette's room, the young man closing the door behind them. As the door clicked shut, the sound of the shower switching off reached Ciaran's ears and soon enough, the champagne-haired Knight of Nine walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel as she was drying off her hair by hand.

"Ah, Darlton!" She said happily. "Good morning."

"Morning Nonette." Darlton responded a bit warily, looking around the room he was in with an appraising eye. "Did something happen last night?"

Nonette stopped drying her hair, keeping the towel pressed against her head as she looked at Darlton then to Ciaran then back to the general. "Yeah, something happened with Ciaran last night."

"Oh please don't say it like that." The young man groaned out as he saw the older man arc an eyebrow at the Lady Knight's words before he turned to look at Ciaran. "I... I had a... a break down."

Darlton looked at Ciaran with an open-mouthed expression of shock before he closed it and approached the young man, putting a gentle hand on to his shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Looking at the taller man for a few seconds, Ciaran was unsure whether he really should say what he had to say, but looking past him and meeting Nonette's eyes told him that he should tell Darlton about what happened.

"All right then." He said, gesturing for the general to sit down on the couch, after moving Nonette's blanket to the side, giving the pair a place to sit. To their side, the still-wet Knight of Nine sat down on the arm of the couch as she carried on drying off her hair. "Basically... I'm scared, sir."

"Scared?" Darlton asked.

"Things keep changing so rapidly for me. It's... well, it's just everything that's been happening to me. I've had so much happen to me in just a month and... honestly? I'm not sure if I can handle it, sir."

Darlton looked at the young man to beside him in quiet shock before he took in a deep breath. "All right. I get what you mean."

From her seat on the end of the couch, Nonette had finished drying her hair and set her towel on to her shoulders as she watched the whole thing as the general continued speaking.

"How long have you been feeling like this?"

"I think I started feeling that way after Kitakyushu, sir." Ciaran responded, rubbing his hands nervously over his knees.

"And you only really started feeling this way after tonight, right?" The general asked.

"It was right before midnight." Nonette spoke up, making Darlton nod his head in understanding as he put a hand to his chin in thought.

It took a few long seconds of too awkward a silence before the general, after slapping his hands gently against his thighs, stood up from his seat and turned to look at Ciaran. Looking up, the young man saw a sincere but sad smile on Darlton's face.

"I'm glad you told me about this, Ciaran." The general said as he put his hands on to the young man's shoulders. "But I won't say anything now."

Ciaran's eyes opened wide in shock at the revelation, opening his mouth to speak before Darlton cut him off by continuing to speak.

"I know that you probably want me to say something, but I want you to talk about this with Guilford." The general said sympathetically. "Technically, as Cornelia's Knight, he is in command of her Royal Guard, so you should take it up with him."

"Hey, that's no problem." Nonette said happily, as she got up off of her seat and headed towards the bedroom to get dressed. "Gil's a nice guy, so I know that if you tell him all of this, he'll help you out."

"She's not wrong." Darlton said as the bedroom door closed. "But, if you don't mind me saying this, I think you need to tell Cornelia about this."

Ciaran opened his mouth to speak before shutting it again and nodding his head. "Yeah, you're right. It's the right thing to do."

A small smile from the general and a nod told Ciaran that that was the right thing to do.

"All right. Go and get a shower, get dressed in to your uniform and then we can go for breakfast." The general said, patting Ciaran on the shoulder before turning to walk out of the room, leaving the young man in the room alone.

Okay, that... that went better than he had thought it would. It was not a real lie that the military life was very much a "men's club", where you had to be tough and strong to survive. But it really had to be due to his unique position in this new world that being where he was provided him with the freedom in being able to express himself like that.

Standing up from his seat and walking towards the bathroom, he began taking his clothes off as he entered the white tiled room and switched on the shower. Soon, the sound of warm water hitting the porcelain of the bathtub filled the room before Ciaran stepped in to the spray of water, getting rid of the built-up sweat and dead skin he had accumulated during the night, along with the tense feelings he had.

He spent a few extra minutes neatening up his appearance, making himself look more like an officer of the Britannian army than a scared young man. After the shower, he gave himself a quick groom with the electric razor he had been given by Cornelia after his arrival in Area 11 and trimmed his facial hair before moving in to the bedroom and promptly changed in to his combat uniform. Ciaran would gladly admit it that the new uniforms were just that bit more comfortable than his Royal Guard uniform. During all of this, Nonette, fully dressed in her own uniform, had been waiting patiently in the living room area, absently flipping through a magazine she had brought with her. When he had finished, the Knight of Nine put down her book and pushed herself up from her seat before standing in front of Ciaran.

"Ready for something to eat?" She asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be." He replied humourlessly, which in turn earned an unamused smile from the older woman before, without saying a word, she gently took Ciaran's hand in one of her own and she guided him out of the door towards the exit and a quiet meal. It was the least the young man deserved.

The officer's mess was a well furnished room, made to look like the interior of an old English country manor. One side of the room was filled with a well-stocked, and currently unmanned, bar while in front of that were numerous long tables fashioned from oak, around which sat several dozen officers, dressed in either the pale-blue or dark-grey uniforms of the Britannian infantry or the blue-grey uniform of the Britannian Air Force. All were either dining on their breakfasts or engaged in quiet conversation. Along the opposite wall was a fully stocked food bar.

After being shown in by one of the stewards, the duo quickly looked around before finally spying the form of General Darlton sitting at a table, with Lieutenants Fick and Walker, the latter dressed in the light-blue uniform, talking quietly with the general while Villetta merely sat in her chair, slumped forward on the table with her head resting against her folded arms.

"Good morning, everyone." Nonette said merrily, the people at the table returning similar greetings as she put her hands on to the back of one of the empty chairs. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm famished. What about you, Ciaran?"

"Oh, definitely." The young man said, caught right in the middle of moving his own chair back. "What would you like?"

"No, it's all right." The Knight of Nine replied, waving off the comment. "You sit down and I'll get our breakfast. Two sausages, two poached eggs, beans and toast, right?"

The young man looked at the older woman in surprise before nodding his head, causing Nonette to smile at him before walking off to where the food was.

"That was a bit weird." He said as he sat down.

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Villetta's slightly muffled voice commented, earning a raised eyebrow from the young man.

"Well you're unusually bitter today." Ciaran said in reply. "What's eating you?"

Letting out a weary sigh, the tawny-skinned woman lifted her head and looked at the man sitting across from her. Without thinking about it, Ciaran quickly suppressed the snigger that came to his throat at the sight of his second-in-command's face: dark circles were forming under her eyes while her eyes themselves were the type of bloodshot that could only come about from lack of sleep.

"Ah, what goes around, comes around, eh, Villetta?" He said, leaning back in his chair slightly, looking quite a bit like the cat that got the cream.

"Yes, yes. I deserved this." Villetta replied, sounding fairly annoyed at the whole proceedings. "You were right: General Darlton is a horrible snorer."

Looking to his side, Ciaran saw the tall man look away with a guilty expression on his face while Lieutenant Fick let a small smile play on his face. Only the ginger-haired Walker was confused by the whole proceedings, if the look on his face was any indication.

"When we arrived in Sacramento early on the Wednesday morning, I had to share a room with the General." Ciaran elaborated. "And, combined with my general lack of sleep from my inability to fall asleep on a plane, his snoring kept me awake virtually throughout the night. A fact that Miss Villetta found to be quite funny."

This earned a small groan from the silver-haired woman. "Fair is fair, I suppose."

"Would you rather have someone try to kill you instead?" The young man asked quickly and icily. It was only when he saw everyone at the table looking at him with a look of extreme shock that he realised what he had exactly said. His head dropped in shame as he let out a weary sigh. "I'm sorry. That... that was totally uncalled for."

"No. No, it's all right." Villetta said, looking a bit more awake now. "After what happened to you last night, I think you deserve to be a bit snippy."

"Still, that was rude." Ciaran said, bringing his hands up to his face before rubbing them up and down slightly, groaning out loudly. "Ugh. I can't wait to get back to Area 11. How are we on the equipment? Everything squared away?"

"The tech-crews pulled an all-nighter getting the Valkyrs in to the stratofreighters." Walker answered, taking a small sip from his own cup of coffee. "Those things are designed to carry a G-1 plus a full squadron of Knightmares, so six helicopters shouldn't be too much of a stretch for it. Although getting those rotors off was certainly a pain."

"I can only imagine." The young man replied. He remembered seeing pictures of helicopters being transported with their rotors folded together for easy transport, but he'd never seen any showing ones with coaxial rotors. Still, it was better than going by boat, that was sure.

"Breakfast is served!" Nonette sang out merrily as she appeared out of nowhere, a tray held in her hands containing two plates of food and two cups of fresh coffee, one of each which she set in front of Ciaran. "So what we talking about?"

"Just about all of the stuff we need to do before we head back to Area 11." Ciaran replied as he picked up his knife and fork and began digging in to his food, while the champagne-haired woman put down the tray and her own breakfast.

"Which also means you'll need to face Nellie about last night." The Knight replied as she gave her coffee a gentle blow before taking a sip.

"Yeah, I know." He replied with a mouthful of sausage and beans. "Won't lie; that scares me more than anything else."

"Nah. You've been through worse." Nonette responded, her own fork, laden with food, centimetres from her mouth before she unceremoniously shoved it all in, before she look at Ciaran with a sideways glance. "She'll understand though. Trust me."

The Briton returned the smile as he continued digging in to his breakfast. For the next few minutes, idle chatter was made while the captain and the Knight of Nine ate their meals. The topic of what happened last night was avoided out of courtesy, with the group instead focusing on getting the battalion to Area 11 as quickly and as effortlessly as possible.

Which unfortunately brought the talk to the events of the previous night.

"The men are on edge, sir." Lieutenant Fick said, downing the last of his coffee before putting the cup down. "They don't like the fact that someone tried to go after you and Miss Villetta last night."

"Don't tell me they're scared, man." Walker said, confused by his fellow officer's words.

"Oh, they're not scared, sir. They're angry." Fick responded. "They've grown fond of Mr Forsyth and Miss Villetta, and they're... well, permission to speak frankly, sir?"

"Granted." Ciaran said, nodding his head as he put his knife and fork together on his now empty plate. "But keep it quiet."

"Sir. Well, basically, they are fucking pissed." Fick almost whispered out. "Alpha Platoon is the worst for it since they see themselves as the captain's personal platoon."

If he said that he wasn't shocked, then Ciaran would definitely be lying.

"How pissed would you say they were, Fick?" Darlton asked, taking over from the young man's shocked state, while also intent on learning more about this latest development.

"Enough to nearly cause problems with the provosts. Some of the men said that it should be them being on guard, not the provosts. And when they were told by the Provost Captain that they were to be confined to quarters for the night, things nearly got nasty until Pappy- that is, Sergeant Patrick- calmed things down."

Ciaran was still in a mild state of shock at the news when he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. Looking to his side, he saw Nonette smiling warmly at him while behind her, Darlton was giving him an 'I told you so' look, which made the young man smile warmly in reply.

"Well then." He said as he reclined back in his chair. "Let's hope we can put that anger to good use, shall we?"

The general raised his own cup in a toast. "Let's. But first: a toast. To the 332, the Warhounds."

Each person at the table picked up their own cups and lifted them up to join Darlton's in a toast. "To the Warhounds!"

The outburst earned a few confused glances from the other patrons of the mess, but they soon turned back to their own business, having heard a few declarations like that before. Setting cups and cutlery aside, Ciaran's group stood up from their seats. Turning to face his counterpart, Fick held his hand out to Walker.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye, Gregor." The blonde-haired lieutenant said as the Army Airman took the offered hand and shook it.

"I doubt this will be the last time we see each other, Nate." Walker replied with a thin smile.

"I'm sorry that you can't join us in Area 11." Ciaran said. "I can't really say it's fair that I can only have two junior NCOs. Especially since Butcher Squadron would technically be your unit."

"It's what happens, sir." The Army Airman said, shrugging his shoulders. "But I will have to say, I do thoroughly believe that the men are in good hands."

The dark-haired Briton smiled warmly at the comment as he walked over and put out his own hand for the lieutenant to shake. "Well, all I can say, Mr Walker, is: good luck to you, and I hope we meet again."

"And the same to you, Captain Forsyth." Walker replied, the smile on his face making his acne scars bunch up slightly.

Walking forward, Darlton held out his own hands as he gave a silent farewell to the officer in the form of a handshake and a nod of his head which Walker returned. Nonette, in her indefatigable style, she closed on the airman and gave him a large hug, which somewhat startled the man but he simply shrugged and returned the hug, albeit somewhat hesitantly. After he was released from the hug, Walker followed the social protocol and bowed his head to the Knight before she and the group left for their rooms.

It didn't take long for Ciaran to pack the few final bits of his stuff in to a small carry on bag, which left the room he shared with Nonette for the night completely spotless, with Nonette trailing a medium sized, wheeled suitcase behind her as they left the room. Waiting for them outside in the hallway, Darlton and Villetta were waiting with Fick and Reynolds, each of them with their bags resting at their feet while they talked quietly amongst themselves.

"Okay, what's up?" The young man asked, becoming very suspicious about any of the people he knew talking in hushed tones when he wasn't around.

Looking from person to person, the group stayed quiet for a few embarrassed seconds before the scarred general spoke up. "I got a head's up report from the Provost Marshal. He says that the man who attacked you hasn't been identified. No dental records, no medical records, no fingerprints, nothing. As far as Stirner's concerned, the man was a ghost."

Feeling his arm drop from his grip on the duffel bag on his shoulder, Ciaran felt his throat tighten up again, even if he realised that he should have seen coming. "And... what does that mean?"

"Unfortunately, for now," Darlton answered. "It means that his investigation on this attack will have to be closed. Sorry."

The young man felt Nonette put a hand on to his shoulder, giving it a gentle, friendly rub as he processed the news.

"So... any good news to tell me?" He asked hesitantly.

"Well, in his learned opinion, and my own as well, you won't be a target for a good while." Darlton said with a small smile. "Assassin's are opportunistic bastards. If their target proves too tough, they'll back off for a good while and think of something else, so that means we have time to prepare too."

Ciaran nodded his head in understanding. If the media was anything to go by, a failed assassination attempt meant a reprieve for the target.

"And-" The general said as he leant down to his bag, unzipping a large pocket before reaching in and pulling out a sizeable brown envelope. "This is for you."

Taking the envelope, Ciaran ripped open the tab and reached inside. Again, his eyes opened wide in shock as his fingers brushed against the last thin he expected to be inside. Withdrawing his hand and holding it open, he tipped up the envelope's contents in to the palm: a sheathed knife, with a blade about seven inches long with a handle made from black leather and a simple hexagonal pommel.

"This-" He began holding the knife gingerly.

"Is the knife from the assassin, yes." Darlton finished for him. "It's kind of... an unwritten law here; if someone tries to kill you but you kill them, you get to keep their weapon."

"... A bit archaic, no?" The young man said as he looked at the weapon closer, feeling the weight as he wrapped his fingers around the grip comfortably. "Nice weapon though."

"It is pretty nice." Nonette observed as she leaned closer to look over Ciaran's shoulder. "If you show that to Cornelia, I think she'll be a bit nicer to you about this whole affair."

"I can only hope." He replied as he opened his own bag and put the knife inside. "Ready to head back?"

The group all answered in the affirmative, before picking up their bags and heading out of the building towards the airstrip and the waiting transport to Area 11.

It would take a little over half a day to reach Tokyo, although Ciaran was just thankful that it was a daytime flight this time. It gave him time to prepare for what he would form Cornelia's particular brand of angry care would manifest itself it.

* * *

Sitting in the large and spacious room that served as his officer, Charles zi Britannia looked out of the window with a bored expression on his face as he watched a small group of birds play around in one of the ornamental birdbaths that had been built in the garden behind his office. They were tiny things, with red feathers around their faces while the rest of them was green.

Rosy-faced lovebirds, he reminded himself. They had been brought over from somewhere in Africa as a present for one of his wives, whose name for the life of him he couldn't remember, and had managed to escape.

Guinevere, his eldest daughter had at the time suggested that they simply be exterminated on mass.

"They're nothing but brightly coloured pests." She had said, in that horribly condescending tone she had picked up from her own mother. "Just be rid of them."

It had been Marianne, then still the Knight of Two, who had overturned that decision, not that it really had any hope of going anywhere, by saying that they brought some extra colour and life to the Imperial gardens. In his mind's eye, Charles remembered the sight of the First Princess looking ready to blow a fuse at the idea of the raven-haired woman challenging her idea, but he had quickly put a stop to that, citing that the birds weren't hurting anyone, so they were to be left alone.

Looking back on it, even though it was one of the smallest decisions that Marianne had made before she became Empress, it had to be one of her better ones, purely in terms of how much it made a view out of the windows better for the man in his early sixties. Just watching the little emerald coloured birds flit back and forth as they chirped to each other certainly brought some much needed life to the garden.

Closing his eyes, Charles let out a low sigh as he thought back to one of the times when he would go for a walk in the gardens. Invariably, those sorts of walks would take him to one of the special secluded areas that naturally exist in all gardens, where, wearing a flowing gown of varying shades of blue, Marianne rested on a marble bench. On one of her outstretched hands, a small lovebird sat perched on her fingers, belting out a happy tune as it regarded her with joyful interest.

He could remember the smell of her perfume as it wafted towards him on the air, the smell growing stronger as he walked towards her, a smile forming on her perfect ruby lips as she watched him approach her...

"Something amusing, dear brother?"

The high-pitched voice of VV's childish voice cruelly cut through Charles' nostalgia. He didn't let his displeasure at the act show however as he turned his chair so he could face his diminutive elder brother.

"It's nothing important." The tall man said flawlessly, having grown used to lying to his brother.

"If you say so, brother." VV replied nonplussed. "So... why did you call me here?"

Reaching forward, Charles placed one of his large hands on to a small mauve folder that rested on his desk. The folder bore the cap badge of the Britannian Military Provosts: a crown mounted over a laurel wreath with "C I" sitting between them, the Latin words for his name and title; Charles Imperator.

"This report was sent to Bismarck, saying that last night in Sacramento Air Base, an assassin attacked and tried to kill a member of Cornelia's Royal Guard, a Captain Ciaran Forsyth. He was stopped by Knight of Nine, Lady Nonette. Before he could be questioned however, he committed suicide with a suspected cyanide pill." Interlocking his fingers, the emperor rested his elbows against the desk top as he looked down at VV. "You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with this now, would you, dear brother?"

In reply, the blonde-haired immortal simply stared at his brother for a few seconds before he simply shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe. What of it?"

Charles let out a sigh in frustration. "Brother, you know that in the past I have tolerated your way of... taking care of your problems. The people you've removed have been people who would not garner too much suspicion if they turned up dead. But to try and remove a member of Cornelia's Royal Guard?"

"What does it matter, Charles?" VV asked incredulously. "He survived and the assassin is dead. No-one will be able to trace it to me or the Geass Order."

"Brother," Charles said. "Attacking this man was one of the biggest mistakes you could have done for our plan. Not only did he survive, but you also brought Cornelia, this country's top general AND a Knight of the Round. Both of whom, if you decided to remove them, would cause a large amount of public outcry, which is something we do not need."

He had to admit it, but Charles took a small measure of delight in seeing the look of anger that that flashed across VV's face.

"They are your daughter and Knight." The child-sized immortal practically hissed out, a scowl on his face. "Just order them to forget about it."

Charles couldn't fight the snort that came to his throat. Not that he even tried. "Brother, you know how these two get when their interest in something is piqued. Or when their ire is raised. Do you remember how they reacted to Marianne's death?"

That had been one of the closest calls that the middle-aged man could remember, barring the occasional past assassination attempt of course. The pair, who both seemed to loved the former Knight of Two almost as much as he had, and when they had learnt about her death, he thought that the pair were going to almost literally tear Pendragon apart. If it hadn't been for the intervention of Schneizel, that might have very well been the case.

For his part, VV merely let out a small huff and pout at the memory. "Very well then. I'll be more... discreet this time."

"Good." Charles nodded his head in response. "But tell me; why are you after him anyway? What has he done to deserve being killed?"

For a few seconds, his elder brother refused to meet his gaze, either due to him wanting to avoid looking at Charles or merely searching his brain for the right words to say. After a few seconds, VV finally spoke.

"Do you remember a few years back when one of our researchers on Geass suggested that there might be a way to use the Collective Unconscious to... well to reach out in to other Collectives that existed in hypothetical multiple or parallel universes?"

Charles stared at VV disbelievingly. "Isn't this the same guy who said that you could use pigeons as carriers for a Geass Code?"

"Yeah, he was a bit mad." The blonde immortal agreed, nodding his head sadly. "However... this time? He may not have been as mad as we thought."

As the 98th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, Charles liked to think that he was a man who had seen and heard all that their was under the sun. When he had originally found out about Geass, he would readily admit that he had originally been taken aback, but he had quickly taken it in his stride, especially when he saw the benefits that such a power could give to him.

But this?

"Brother, are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" He asked warily, absolutely refusing to believe what his brother had just said to him.

"I'm not suggesting anything, Charles." VV said flatly. "I'm telling you outright. That man being here is a result of our experiment in to see if we can reach in to those other universes via the Collective Unconscious."

The 98th Emperor stared at his brother in absolute disbelief as his hands fell on to the desk. "How did you accomplish that?" He asked.

VV shrugged in reply. "Our researchers are still trying to figure that out. He should have ended up in our facility in Mongolia, but instead he wound up in Area 11. None of them can tell why and they're not really sure they can figure it out either."

Putting a hand against his chin, Charles mulled over what he had just been told. This whole thing was a concept that he had never thought of or even imagined. Taking someone from one universe and transporting them to another was... unthinkable, not just in the idea but the act as well.

"Brother," He said, managing to come down from his shock. "I need to ask you one question: does this man pose any threat to our plan?"

Again, VV shrugged. "I do not know."

"So then might not this whole assassination attempt be a bit... unnecessary?"

The small immortal seemed to mull over the question for a few seconds before his eyes opened in shocked realization. "That... might be true."

"Just something for you to think about, brother." Charles said, sounding quite pleased at getting one over his brother. "Might I suggest that you only try and deal with him if and when he actually becomes a threat. All right?"

"... All right." VV said begrudgingly. "Is that all?"

"Yes, that is all, brother. Have a good day." The grey-haired man replied as he turned his chair back to look at the lovebirds flitting around the garden. The faintest sound of the door to his office clicking shut told Charles that VV had left the room, waiting a few seconds in silence to make sure that he was truly alone before he opened up a small panel that was embedded in to one of the arms of his chair, pressing a small button which activated a speaker, connecting him to his herald's office a dozen feet away from his office. "Send for Bismarck."

No reply came through the speaker but then again, none was needed as the herald quickly went about fetching the Knight of One. And, sure enough, maybe a half minute or so later, a trio of heavy but measured knocks came from the other side of the oak portal.

"Come in, Bismarck." Charles said, not bothering to turn his seat around. Even when he heard the door open and shut, the man didn't turn around to acknowledge that the Knight of One was standing behind him.

"You sent for me, Your Highness." The tall man acknowledged, replying curtly.

Turning his seat around, Charles looked up at Bismarck's face. It was generally considered wise, if a person was picking a bodyguard, that it was best to pick someone taller than you, or at least make them appear to be taller than you. Lord Bismarck Waldstein, the Lord Knight of One, definitely fell under the former. Standing at over seven feet tall, with a permanent tan, shoulder-length black hair, he was an intimidating man, even if he didn't have his left eye sewn shut.

"Yes I did, Bismarck." The emperor said, lifting the folder in front of him and presenting it to the Knight. "You have read this, correct?"

Bismarck nodded his head. "I have, Your Highness. While, as her superior, I can applaud Lady Nonette for coming to the young man's defence, the fact that she has ended up tangled in something she very definitely shouldn't? She's put herself in danger now."

Charles nodded his head as he put the folder down again. "Agreed. My brother does not really care who gets in his way. 'The ends justify the means' is his motto in life, it seems."

' _Especially considering her murdered my wife._ ' He thought to himself.

"So what do you suggest we do, My Lord?" The Knight of One asked.

"We can't do anything with Cornelia. She's a big girl, so she can look after herself. The same with this... Captain Forsyth." He had to jog his memory for the man's name. "However, with Nonette and Dorothea being in Area 11, it makes it a bit harder for us to keep an eye on them."

"Shall I issue the order for them to return to the Homeland, My Lord?" Bismarck asked.

"Do it." Charles said simply, nodding his head indicating that the matter was at an end. Bowing his head curtly, Bismarck turned on his heels and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him as the emperor turned his chair to face the window again.

Once again alone in the silence of his office again, Charles zi Britannia watched the small green lovebirds finish up their time in the birdbath before they flitted away, chirping happily as they went.

A small, amused smile came to the man's lips. ' _Well, that was certainly interesting._ ' He thought to himself.

* * *

 **AN: And chapter 25 is finally up! A minor personal update: still not got a job (as of time of posting this chapter), but I am going to be having an interview/taster day with one of the big retail chains in the UK on the 6th, so wish me luck for that. Hopefully, if I get that, then it'll mean I can go some way to getting a new laptop.**

 **Honestly, not much to say on this one. I've been liking to imagine that Nonette is the kind of woman who would be big sisterly to nearly everyone she met, so I did try to get that across a bit in this chapter. Again, CLAMP REALLY dropped the ball on so many of their characters.**

 **A note on me using the term 'provosts' for the military police: since I imagined that the Britannian military is based more heavily on the organization of the British Army during the Napoleonic Era, then the military police would be the provosts. I also have absolutely zero clue how the military police, anywhere, would handle such a thing like an assassination attempt on a senior officer, but I imagine that it would probably happen enough that they would know how to deal with it. Also, the idea of Ciaran keeping the assassin's weapon was something that, after talking about it with AD Fields, would fit in quite well with the whole Britannian Social Darwinism. It also brings up the line from the Necromongers of the Chronicles of Riddick: You keep what you kill. Something which might end up being a tiny bit more prevalent in future chapters.**

 **As for the scene with Charles, VV and Bismarck... I like to imagine that Charles would more than likely end up running damage control on his brother's actions, so he'd probably be quite sick of his brother doing whatever he feels like.**

 **So that's it really. As usual, read, enjoy and review.**


	26. Chapter 26

Lying on her side, the stuffed Mr Cheese plush clutched tightly to her chest, CC realised something she should have realised sooner: Lelouch's bed was very comfortable. She did spend most of her time on it, yes, mainly when the boy didn't have her doing anything for his little 'rebellion' and whenever he decided to go to class.

The bed was large, a double, which she found a bit peculiar for a teenager who didn't seem to have any active interest in the opposite sex. Although in retrospect, that wasn't the weirdest thing she'd ever seen. But lying in her underpants and feeling the softness of the mattress envelop her as she tried to sleep, she didn't really care.

' _Ah, if only my life could have been like this._ ' She thought to herself, a thin smile coming to her lips as she drifted off in to sleep.

+ _Knock, knock._ \+ Marianne's voice came in loud and clear in her head, causing the lime-green-haired immortal to open her eyes before they narrowed in annoyance.

"Marianne, that was uncalled for." CC said in annoyance as she rolled on to her back and looked at the ceiling. "I was just about to have a nap."

+ _Oh, pfft,_ \+ The disembodied voice of the late empress said almost right in her ear. + _You're always napping. Or eating. Just be thankful that I haven't caught you having sex with my son yet_.+

"You don't have to worry about _that_ happening, Marianne." CC said testily. God. Even 600 years later, if an unmarried woman lived together with an unmarried man... "What do you want?"

+ _I have a question to ask you, CC._ \+ The voice in her head said, the jovial tone still in her voice even as she sounded just a bit sterner. + _Do you know of a man called Ciaran Forsyth? He's a captain in Cornelia's Royal Guard._ +

An image of the dark-haired Briton in the drab green pilot suit eating a slice of pizza flashed in her mind.

"I know him. Why?"

+ _I met him in Sacramento a few days ago. He's... he seemed a bit... odd._ +

"Odd how?" CC asked, sitting up on the bed.

+ _Like... like... It's hard to explain._ +

Now this was odd. Marianne was hardly ever at a loss for words. "Marianne?"

+ _It's like... have you ever watched a television show, and one character always seems to be out of focus in the camera, no matter where they or the camera is?_ +

CC blinked in confusion for a few seconds as she tried to process what she had just heard. "Marianne... that doesn't really make sense. Even for you."

A indignant huff echoed through the immortal's head. + _Well it's not my fault! This whole thing doesn't make sense to me either. I just thought with your age, you'd have seen something like this too._ +

Flopping back on to the bed, her hair flying up in the air before settling on to her shoulders, CC tried to dig through her memory for something similar to what Marianne had described. It was true that she had met hundreds, no, thousands of people during her expanded lifespan, but as far as she could recollect, she had never experienced anything like the former-empress had described.

In the end, CC shrugged her shoulders, an ultimately useless gesture on her part.

"I'm sorry, Marianne. I can't say that I've met that sort of person before." The immortal said.

+ _Well... It was worth a shot anyway._ \+ The voice of Marianne responded, sounding very much like someone sitting down in a chair after a hard day of work (not that she really would in her current state, CC mused). + _Anyway, VV ordered an assassin to kill him last night._ +

"He didn't?" CC asked, not shocked by the idea but shocked by the fact. "Why?"

+ _From what Charles told me, the little bastard said that one of his researchers had been trying something with the Collective Unconscious and that the captain was the result of that experiment._ \+ Marianne said, sounding very much like a gossipy schoolgirl. + _For some reason, VV took it upon it himself to have the young man killed._ +

"Wait, what?!" CC asked loudly, sitting bolt upright in shock, not caring if anyone heard her possibly talking to herself. "Say that again."

+ _What, what he wanted the guy killed?_ +

"No, not that bit. The _other bit_. The bit about the Collective Unconscious." The lime-haired witch replied.

+ _Oh,_ that _bit_.+ Marianne replied. + _I'd have thought you'd have known about that?_ +

CC let out a low huff in annoyance. "Marianne, you know that I've been away from the Geass Order for nearly eight years. Now tell me: what has VV done with the Collective Unconscious?" The last sentence was nearly hissed out, a far cry from the normally laid back manner of the immortal witch.

+ _All right, all right._ \+ The Empress' spirit said in a placating tone. + _From what Charles told me, it seems that one of the researchers in the Geass Order had a theory that... oh, fuck. What was it? Something... something about... there being other Collective Unconscious' and reaching in to them._ +

For a moment, CC was merely dumbstruck, the Mr Cheese plush nearly falling from her slackened grip as she took in what she had just been told.

"Marianne. Please tell that you are joking."

+ _CC, do you ever remember Charles telling a joke?_ \+ Marianne asked in return.

Flopping backwards, the immortal witch put a hand to her forehead as she let out a loud groan in annoyance. "Ugh, that idiot! Didn't I warn him how dangerous that could be?"

+ _Uh... want to fill me in here?_ +

Removing her hand from her forehead, CC stared up in annoyance at the ceiling. "Marianne, it's a basic principle of the universe that a cause has an effect, that you can't take anything without giving something in return. Even I don't know the full extent of what the Collective Unconscious can do, so there's no way in hell that VV will know what the results of this act will be!"

Closing her eyes, CC did her best to steady her breathing. God, but that little bastard just kept on infuriating her.

"I mean, killing him might destroy the very fabric of time itself." She groaned out-loud, obviously using an extremely unlikely scenario just to illustrate her point.

+ _But then, leaving him alive might also end the universe as we know it._ \+ Marianne opined, sounding confused and not also not fully convinced of where this train of thought was going.

From her position on the bed, CC shook her head. "No. No, I don't- well, there is the possibility, but I don't think that something like that is going to happen. At least... I don't think so."

This was too strange, though, for the immortal witch. VV always had too much of a propensity to stick his nose in to places he shouldn't but this time he was definitely going too far, for his own good and the good of others.

"Since he's here in Area 11, I'll try my best to get closer to the captain and-"

The sound of a door opening and shutting loudly filled the room. It had been a habit that Lelouch had developed in an attempt to try and give CC some form of warning that he was coming. Usually, she would have not experienced any sort of worry from the noise, but now...

+ _And what, CC?_ \+ Marianne asked, her voice betraying any of her characteristic calm.

"I'll talk to you later, Marianne." The witch replied before she switched off the mental link to the deceased Empress' spirit, earning a very muffled curse from her before CC laid back more fully on to the bed as the door to Lelouch's room slid open, allowing the bed's owner, dressed in his black school uniform, to enter.

"CC, I... oh, lord!" The teen revolutionary leader began before he covered his face in shock. "Please, for the love of God, at least put a t-shirt on or something. Please! What if someone sees you?"

'Yup. Definitely no worry of me ending up in the same bed as him.' The immortal thought to herself before she rolled up in to a foetal position, hugging her large yellow plushy to her body. "Why does it bother you so much, Lelouch? I'm just giving you a glimpse of what you'll very likely be seeing in a few years, so you should try and get used to it at least. Probably."

A snort of derision came from the dark haired teen as he walked over to his desk and placed his school case on to it's surface.

"So... any progress?" CC asked, not wanting to keep the room silent.

"I though the cease-fire would be to our benefit, but it seems to have nearly been the opposite." Lelouch replied in annoyance. "The few remaining resistance groups that exist in Japan are either made from hard-liners who want us to strike much harder and more often at the Britannians, both military and civilian, while the others are too timid to give us any sort of support unless we take any sort of action against Britannia."

"So you'll always have to be on the offensive to get any sort of support, then?" CC asked, looking over the head of Mr Cheese.

"Yes. And knowing my sister, that would be a disaster for us. She'll very like- no, she will have reinforcements coming to shore up her forces, and they'll probably be some of the best that Britannia has to offer."

"A worthy opponent then." The witch stated as she rolled on to her back. "And a dangerous one too."

"Indeed. If I knew which forces she was sending for, then I'd be ready for her." Lelouch said in frustration, gripping the back of his chair tightly before he turned to look at the woman lying on his bed. "Speaking of which: you still haven't told me what you learnt from that captain."

' _Oh balls._ ' CC said to herself. ' _I wanted to avoid this._ ' Looking to her side, she saw the teen she had made a contract with staring at her incredulously for an answer. ' _God, he's a persistent little cuss. And not in the way I like either._ '

"I didn't learn anything from him." She said. "The only thing that I learnt about him that you didn't already know is that, even though he's a soldier for Britannian, he has some very novel views about Britannia, the military and war."

This took Lelouch by surprise, especially if the wide eyed look on his face was anything to go by. "Wait, what do you mean?"

At this, CC shrugged before she replied. "I can't really remember the majority of it, but one thing that I do remember is that, even though he says that inequality is the leading rule of nature, he views the military as some sort of great equalizer, with it being able to raise up even the lowliest person up to the highest rank."

Turning fully on to her side to look at the boy standing beside her, the witch's face was devoid of any emotion as she spoke. "Just like your mother."

Like he had been slapped, Lelouch eyes opened wider in shock at what she had just said before a grin cocked his lips to the side. "Really now? Heh. No wonder Cornelia took him in. Did he say anything else?"

"Yes. He said that he hates war."

Confusion crossed Lelouch's face at the last sentence.

"So he's a soldier, who's fighting for one of the most brutal empires that has ever existed, who's fighting under the command of the woman who has brought whole nations under the heel of Britannia, and he says that he hates war?" A snort came from his throat. "I've never heard such a more brilliant example of hypocrisy in my life."

From her position on the bed, CC didn't say a thing as she watched Lelouch walk over to his desk and sit down.

"No matter. What we do or do not know from him won't change anything. Once the cease-fire is over, the Black Knights will strike back at Britannia."

"And where will that be?" The witch asked, not really caring about what he would say but intent on listening anyway as she closed her eyes.

"We'll be attacking the Viceroy's Palace directly."

That made CC's eyes snap open as she bolted back upright. "What did you say?"

"You heard me." Lelouch said without turning around, even as he heard the woman almost literally jump off the bed and stomp towards him. He did however turn to look at her when he felt his chair be spun to face the angry visage of the half naked witch. "CC, what are yo-"

"You and I made a contract. A contract that you have not fulfilled your end of yet. And for that, I need you alive!" She practically hissed in to Lelouch's face. "So you WILL NOT attack the Viceroy's Palace."

The teen was stunned. "How dare y-gah!" His complaint was silenced as CC clamped a hand around his throat, enough to stop him talking but not enough to reduce air intake.

"No, Lelouch. I won't hear of it. When I gave you that Geass, you made a contract with me. So I will not see you throw your life away in a foolish attempt at revenge. Do you understand?"

Lelouch's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull at the force in the lime-green-haired witch's voice, a complete contrast to her usually lacklustre personality, forcing the youth to nod his head in reply as he was unable to speak from the disturbingly strong grip on his neck.

"All right then. You can pursue your vendetta against Britannia another time, but don't through your life away." CC said simply as she removed her hand from his throat.

Not paying any more attention to him, the woman padded back over to his bed and, after picking up the plush toy she had dropped in her anger, she plopped down on to the bed. Maybe now she could get that nap.

Children were such a pain.

* * *

It had become too much of a familiar scene for the Second Princess: her sitting at the desk in the Viceroy's office and Ciaran standing in front of her, the young man looking quite worried about what the Princess would do to her.

Which was not really helped, she thought on it, as she held the knife that he had presented to her, the blade-tip resting against the desk pad while her index finger kept the weapon upright.

"You don't have anything to worry about, Ciaran." She said, keeping her eyes closed as she resisted the urge to try and destroy the item in front of her with her bare hands.

"I'd like to believe that." The young man replied. "If it wasn't for the fact that I can see the vein on your forehead throb with anger."

Cornelia's eyes snapped open, the glare she directed at the Briton making him, and everyone else in the room, take a small leap backwards.

Okay, maybe she was angry.

Laying the knife down on to the desk top, Cornelia closed her eyes, pushing herself to her feet before she took in a steadying breath. Opening her eyes, she looked directly at the young man across from her.

"Yes, Ciaran. I am angry. Do you know why I'm angry?"

"Because I-" He began before Cornelia cut him off quickly.

"I am angry... because the fact that an assassin managed to slip through to get his hands on you, literally. I'm angry that this bastard of a man dared to even think of laying hands on you and I am fucking angry that we can't find the bastard who employed him!"

The last word of her sentence was punctuated by her slamming her palms hard against her desk, making the objects on it, and the people around it, jump a bit. Sighing deeply, her anger dissipated, Cornelia let her body fall back in to her chair, causing her hair to bounce wildly before it settled again.

"If I get grey hair before I'm thirty, I'm blaming you." She tried to joke, pointing a finger at Ciaran with a small smile on her face. Which quickly fell at seeing the fact that a forlorn look was on the young man's face, causing her to sigh. "Although to be fair, I did say the same thing about Nonette."

"Hey!" The Knight of Nine responded, sounding very annoyed, although the act was enough to bring a small smile to Ciaran's face.

'But still', Cornelia thought to herself. 'I should probably change tact here.'

"Okay," she spoke out-loud. "Let's go through what we know already. After I called you three-" She gestured at Nonette, Ciaran and Darlton. "-the night before, you all go back to the officer's barracks, where Nonette orders a take-out."

"Yes, burgers." The young man said. "Mine of which, I still have not had a chance to eat yet."

"Not my fault." The champagne-haired Knight said, holding her hands up defensively.

"All right!" Cornelia called out, interrupting the conversation before it got out of hand. "So you three planned to have dinner, where Ciaran went out to get a drink from the vending machine in the hallway. It was here that you were approached by... Lady Villetta-" She did her best to avoid spitting out the name in disgust. "-and the assassin."

The Princess left the rest of that sentence unsaid as she didn't want to bring it up. And from the looks on the faces of the people in front of her, she knew that they weren't too keen on anyone bringing it up either.

"I assume that you've read over Marshal Stirner's report on the incident, Your Highness?" Darlton asked.

"Not yet, although I doubt it will say anything that I don't already know." Cornelia replied sounding quite irritated about the whole situation. "I still cannot believe that an assassin got that close to one of my own officers!"

The sound of a fist striking a hard surface filled the room, although the Third Princess didn't pay attention to the pain in her left fist from the strike.

"So who do we think is responsible for this?" She asked after taking a steadying breath.

"First thoughts had Zero being the lead choice from the gate." Darlton replied, earning a few head nods in agreement. "But then we also had a thought that it could be that arsehole Hasselbach."

"We'll have to discount Lord Hasselbach for a start." Lord Guilford said suddenly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "His incarceration, while being far too good for his crime, means that he can't possibly send out a message without us finding out about it."

"Thought as much." Ciaran said, sounding quite annoyed at the fact. "And I highly doubt it would be Zero, if I'm honest."

"What makes you think that it wasn't Zero?" Cornelia asked. "I wouldn't put it past the snake to try something like this."

"Yes, I know the feeling, Princess." The young man replied, nodding his head with a small smile. "But he's arrogant, not stupid. Think of it; what does he gain from trying to take me out? Even if he did succeed, it would do nothing except thoroughly piss you."

The purple-haired princess inclined her head as she agreed with the statement. Messing with her family, even if they were technically adopted, was a sure-fire way to get her angry.

"Plus," Ciaran continued. "If he did send the assassin, then he'd technically be breaking the cease-fire which would give us carte blanche to act against him. Which, combined with how angry you'd get, would _really_ not be in his best interests."

Leaning forward to lean against her elbows, Cornelia steepled her fingers against each other. "So that leaves us with one fact then: we have absolutely no idea who this man was hired by."

All people present nodded their heads as the Princess continued speaking.

"But one thing's for sure: we have just had a major security breach. Obviously, bringing this insurgency to heel remains the main focus of our operations here, but we cannot ignore the fact that someone inside this very palace sent the message to the assassin, or his contractor, to say where Ciaran was. So we need to root him out. NOW."

Turning her chair, she directed her gaze at her knight. "Guilford, since you're the one detected the transmission, then I'm tasking you with finding this rat and flushing him out."

"As you command, My Lady." The bespectacled Knight said, bowing his head as Cornelia turned to look at the people in front of her.

"As for all but one of you, I can't really say much except for you to keep your eyes open for anything suspicious. If you do see anything suspicious, then you are to report it to Lord Guilford. Understood?"

A chorus of affirmations met her before Cornelia turned and pointed a finger directly at the non-Britannian among them. "And you."

Ciaran's eyes opened wide as he pointed at himself in confusion. "Me?"

"Since word will probably get back to this rat-bastard's employer that you survived, you will still be in danger. So until we catch him, or he slips up, you are to remain in the Palace." Cornelia responded, tapping a finger on to her desktop to reinforce her point. "If you feel that you need to go out in the Settlement, and that's a definite _if_ , then you either tell myself, Darlton, Guilford or Nonette or Dorothea or have one of us accompanying you."

"Eh?" The look of shock on the young man's face would have been funny at any other point of time, but now, not so much.

"Ciaran, I'm serious." Cornelia responded sternly. "If you go out in the Settlement by yourself without telling anyone or having anyone with you, and you get attacked, then..."

He sentence trailed off as she thought about the possibilities that could happen to him, none of which bore thinking about.

In front of her, Ciaran looked between the others in the group before seeing that he wasn't going to get any back up on this one. "Fine." He said in a quiet huff.

From her seat, the Third Princess let a relieved smile come to her face. While it was a fact that, ever since Ciaran had unceremoniously dropped in to her life, her life had definitely become more varied and interesting. And, to be completely honest with herself, she didn't want to lose him.

"I'm only doing this for your own safety, Ciaran." She said warmly.

The nod of the young man's head of dark brown curly hair told her that she had won any argument, so she could safely switch topics. "All right then, so is there any other business to talk about before we go on to our main topic for tonight?"

The room was silent for a few seconds before the heads in front of her were shook side to side. It looked like Darlton had shot a sideways glance at Ciaran, but she couldn't be sure, so she ignored.

"All right then," Cornelia said, putting her hands flat on to her desk. "As you all know, the deadline for the cease-fire ends tonight, so I want all of you to be ready in case something bad happens."

"Which it won't." Ciaran added, but Cornelia ignored him.

"I'd put good money on Zero launching an attack on us the moment that the cease-fire ends at midnight-"

"Which he won't."

"Goddamnit, Ciaran!" Cornelia called out in frustration, "Stop doing that."

"I'm just saying that what you want Zero to do, he will not do. The only things that he will do are the things you don't want him to do."

"... eh?" This time, it was the older woman's turn to be confused, a bit like everyone else in the room, forcing Ciaran to elaborate.

"Look at this logically: Zero is not fighting a conventional war. He will use very trick and every avenue he can find to attack us. But he will also know, or at least have a major inkling, that we will be receiving reinforcements from the Homeland, even though we still have a good few days until they arrive. He also knows that any commander worth their salt would have their forces on high alert right at the end of the cease-fire, ready for an attack, which he won't follow through with, because he knows that if he were to attack us, then we'd be ready for the hit. It's only when we _won't_ expect him to hit us will he hit us."

Cornelia, and everyone else present could not help but simply stare in dumbfounded disbelief at what Ciaran had just said. Granted, there was some sense in what he had just said, but the way he had said really left little to be understood from it.

"He's right, you know." Nonette said matter-of-factly, causing the older princess to rest her hand against her forehead, even as she chuckled softly.

' _Of course it's Nonette who gets it._ ' Cornelia thought to herself as she brought her hand away from her face, before she locked eyes with Ciaran. "All right then, captain. In your, esteemed military opinion, what do you suggest we do?"

The look of minor annoyance that came to his didn't escape the Princess' face, making the smile on her lips just a little bit wider, but to his credit, Ciaran actually spoke.

"I say: keep the main units on standby, but we also get 332 Battalion ready as well. Even if we're still undermanned, having those men will be a bonus. Plus, I do not think that the Black Knights will be expecting to get hit with something like the Valkyrs."

Cornelia nodded her head in agreement. From the footage that Darlton had taken during their training in Sacramento, the effect of the Valkyrs would be horrifying for an opponent who weren't prepared for it. Plus, the fact of having some more battle-ready soldiers, especially ones from the elite Pathfinders would be nothing but a boon to her current forces.

"Sound logic, Ciaran." She said, nodding her head before sitting upright in her chair. "All right, everyone is dismissed, but be aware that I want 332 Battalion ready on standby at midnight for three hours. If there's not attack during or after that, you'll be stood down for the night. Understood?"

"Yes, Your Highness." The Briton replied.

"Yes, My Lady." Darlton intoned, both men bowing their heads in respect to the Princess before she waved them out of the room, the Knights of the Round and Euphemia following behind.

They hadn't gone more than five yards before Cornelia called out. "Ciaran! Forgetting something?"

In an impressive move, the young man pivoted on one foot and quick walked over to the desk where the Princess rested her elbow against it and the sheaved knife held in her hands. Without saying a word, Ciaran plucked the knife from her hand and jogged back to catch the others as they headed out of the door.

Sitting back in her chair, Cornelia let a small smile play at her lips.

Yes, she would definitely hate to loose a man like Ciaran.

* * *

As he exited Cornelia's office, shutting the door behind him, Ciaran found himself instantly encased in a tight embrace from the young princess, drawing an amused chuckle from Dorothea and Nonette.

"Seriously, Euphemia?" He asked in mock annoyance before he wrapped his own arms around the young girl with a chuckle. "How long were you waiting to do that?"

"Since you got back." Euphemia said with a smile as she hugged him.

It was true that Ciaran had seen the pink princess waiting anxiously for his return when he and 332 Battalion had landed in the Palace's hangar, standing alongside her sister, Guilford and Dorothea, ready to review the battalion.

That had certainly gone more smoothly than he imagined it would, with Cornelia meeting Lieutenant Fick and having a slightly more cordial meeting with Lieutenant Villetta (who later complained that the Second Princess had gripped her hand a bit too tightly during the handshake) before she talked to each of the team leaders and the pilots before she gave the unit it's mission directive in Area 11: to strike hard and to strike fast at the Black Knights and any other resistance groups they missed.

After that, it was the meeting he had just been in and now here he was caught in an attempted bear-hug from Euphemia.

Looking past the Princess' head of hair, Ciaran saw Darlton directing a slightly miffed look at him.

"What?" The young man asked, trying his best to shrug while still being hugged by the Princess.

"You didn't tell the Princess about what happened last night." Darlton said as he put his hands across his chest.

"Tell me what?" Euphemia asked, turning her head to look at the general, eliciting a small chuckle from the man she was hugging.

"No, not you, Euphemia. He means Cornelia." Ciaran responded to the young girl before he looked up at Darlton. "I just didn't think that it was the right time to tell her."

"Wait, wait. What's going?" Dorothea asked, the shocked expression on her face mirroring the one on Euphemia's as she released him from her grip, forcing the young man to elaborate.

"It... it happened after the attack." He said haltingly, his eyes dropping a bit. "I... I had a... a really bad nightmare that night and it... kind of really made me feel that I might be out of my depth a bit."

He couldn't deny it, but he felt a bit of shame at what he said, but it didn't stop him from finishing.

"I felt that if I told Cornelia about it, then she'd react... a bit too strongly to it."

"How strongly do you think she'd react?" Nonette asked.

"Like she'd take me off frontline duties and put someone who knows absolutely nothing about the people under his command and how to use them effectively?" He asked in reply, looking up at the woman.

"Yeah... she might do that." The Knight of Nine replied bit hesitantly. "But still, you should have told her."

"I know." Ciaran said in a dejected manner, his eyes dropping back down to the floor.

The sensation of someone putting a hand on to his back and rubbing up and down gently made his head snap back up. Looking to his left, he saw that Dorothea was standing to his left, a small, reassuring smile on her lips.

"You're only human, Ciaran." She said, not taking her hand or her eyes off of him. "But I do think that you should talk to Cornelia at some point in the future about this."

The others nodded their heads before Darlton spoke up. "She will understand, lad. You're not alone in this, trust me." Walking forward, the tall general put both of his hands on Ciaran's shoulders. "But if you feel that you can handle this on your own, then I won't force you. But please. Don't let this build up too much."

Tilting his head up, Ciaran would have had to be blind to miss the sincerity in Darlton's eyes as he nodded his head in agreement.

"All right. Let's just get through tonight though, shall we?" The young man said to the group, eliciting a confirmation from all of them, with Nonette being the first to move out, happily announcing that she was going to get something to drink. However, one figure stayed behind.

As she began to move past him, Ciaran stopped Dorothea by gently gripping her jacket sleeve, stopping her dead in her tracks.

"Ciaran, what's-" She began as she turned to look at the young man beside her, before a quiet 'shush' silenced her. Looking down the corridor at the receding backs of the others to make sure they were safely out of earshot, he jerked his head to the side to indicate that she should follow him. Moving quickly, Ciaran moved his hand down to take a hold of Dorothea's as he led her down the corridor and round a corner out of sight.

"Ciaran, what is going on?" The umber-skinned woman asked in a loud whisper, aghast at what was going on but the cautious smile on her face told the world that she was enjoying the act.

"First off, let me do this." Ciaran replied, before he gently brought his hand up to cup Dorothea's face. Leaning forward, he softly placed his lips against hers. In response, the woman put her hands against his arms and melted in to the kiss.

After a few seconds, the two disconnected and looked at each other with a giddy expression, the young man moving his arms down to wrap gently around her waist.

"How long have you wanted to that?" Dorothea asked as she nuzzled her forehead against Ciaran's.

"Ever since I got back." Came the reply as he returned the affectionate gesture. "Besides I need to talk to you about something."

Dorothea moved her head back, allowing her to look fully at her lover. "About what?"

"Remember how, before I went to Sacramento, I said that we should go on a date?" Ciaran asked in reply, as he gently began swaying his body, and by extension, Dorothea's, side to side.

"Of course." The Knight of Four replied, letting herself be led in the ad-hoc dance that she had been forced in to.

"Well... let's do it. Tomorrow." Ciaran said, a smile on his face.

Shock came to Dorothea's face as she stopped moving, which almost made the young man tip to the side.

"Are you serious?" She asked.

"Uh... yeah, pretty serious." Came the somewhat confused reply.

"Ciaran, you know that Cornelia says that the Black Knights will do something tonight." Dorothea said in a measured tone, trying to make him see reason. "If not tonight, then maybe he'll do something tomorrow."

Ciaran let out a sigh before he responded. "But he won't."

"I know you said he won't, but how do you know he won't?"

The young man let out an exasperated sigh. "Okay, I'll admit that I'm not one hundred percent sure that Zero won't attack, but ninety-nine is still a good number."

Dorothea didn't say anything in response, only looking at him simply for a few seconds before she brought a hand to rest gently against his face. "Ciaran. What is this really about?"

The young man's eyes opened wide in shock before they softened slightly, a chuckle leaving his throat. Damn, but she was good. After taking a short but deep breath, he gave his response. "I... I'm twenty-one and I'm already helping decide to decide the fate of a nation. But being with you... it's making me feel more like I'm... like I'm someone normal. Even if it's only for a short while."

Silence filled the corridor as Ciaran simply looked at the woman in front of him, waiting for her reply. Her response didn't really surprise him, as it was something he had come to expect, but the young man still couldn't help but smile when he felt Dorothea's lips press gently against his own before they retreated and he was pulled in to a hug.

"I'm sorry, Ciaran." She said, her voice low as her mouth was so close to his ear. "I forget what your situation is like. I'm being selfish."

Moving back from the hug, the umber-skinned woman looked at the man in front of her resolutely.

"But the situation is far too dangerous for us to go out together."

He didn't mean for it to happen, but Ciaran let out a quiet huff from his nose, making him sound like someone younger than what he said his age was.

"I think you should do it." A younger voice said from the end of the corridor to Ciaran's right, making the pair spin in shock, only to relax when they saw Euphemia's face peering around the corner.

"God- Euphemia, don't do that!" Ciaran said, stopping himself from swearing early as the Princess moved around the corner and headed towards them.

"I'm sorry, but you two disappeared, and since you obviously don't want anyone else to know about it, I went and looked for you two." She explained as she drew closer to the couple. "So, I'm sorry, but I overheard what you said. And I think that you two should go on the date."

"Princess-" Dorothea began before Euphemia cut her off.

"Dorothea, I have come to the same land that seven years ago was ravaged by our own country. It is the land where I have lost three of my siblings and have almost lost a dear friend. Before the end, I want to see some happiness."

Ciaran's mouth dropped slightly as he looked at the girl in front of him. He knew that while Euphemia's usually genial mood was genuine, behind it was a girl who hid a great deal of personal pain. And while, in a sense it could be considered, emotional black mail, he really didn't know how it would affect her request was refused.

Beside him, he heard Dorothea suck in a guilty breath. "Your Highness, I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"No, please." Euphemia said, quickly cutting in, shaking her head. "I don't want to make you feel that you are being pressured in to this situation, but more than anything, I want you to know that I support your relationship with Ciaran, in whatever way I can."

Royal support for a relationship. In another place, in his own world, Ciaran would have chuckled or even outright laughed at it. But right now, it meant a heck of a lot. And looking to his side, it looked like it meant a lot to Dorothea too.

"I thank you for your words of support, Euphemia." The umber-skinned woman said, smiling happily before the emotion dropped from her face. "But if Zero does pull something tonight, it'll be too dangerous to us do so."

' _Again with the ironclad logic!_ ' Ciaran said in his head, although the roll of his eyes told everyone just what he had thought. Especially if the narrowing of Dorothea's eyes were any indication.

"Are you that hell-bent on having the date tomorrow?" She asked sternly.

"To be perfectly honest? Yes. Yes, I am."

"All right then. Fine." She said with a sense of finality, putting her hands against her hips as she turned to look at him. "If Zero doesn't attack tonight or tomorrow morning, I'll go out on a date with you."

Ciaran's eyes opened wide in shock at the change in tone in Dorothea's voice, surprised by the woman's forcefulness on a matter she had just a few seconds previously protested. And from the blush that crept up her face, the Knight of Four knew it too.

"Dorothea, do you know what you just said?" Euphemia asked, looking in shock at the older woman.

"Yes, I know what I said!" Dorothea replied, the blush on her face staying put. "But I mean it! If Zero doesn't attack, then I will go out on a date with Ciaran. Happy?"

The broad grin on the young man's face told her and Euphemia all they needed to know. Reaching forward, Ciaran gently put his hands round Dorothea's waist and pulled her in to a hug, earning a small squeak from the older woman before he leant forward and gave her a small peck on the cheek.

"I'll hold you to that." Ciaran said

The act made Dorothea's blush deepen, but looking at him, the woman's shocked visage dropped in to one of quiet bliss at the act, while to the side, Euphemia just smiled broadly at the pair.

* * *

For the rest of the day, the Britannian forces that were situated in and around the Viceroy's Palace in Area 11 were put on to high alert status. The remaining soldiers were ordered to their posts, Knightmares were mustered in designated areas, with the two Knights of the Round and Lord Guilford ready to lead them, and in the large hold of the Palace's hangar, the six gunships of Butcher Squadron of 332 Battalion sat ready, their weapons locked and loaded, their engines primed, each one sitting like a predatory bird, just waiting for the signal from it's handler to be let loose and hunt.

For their part, the Pathfinders were split up around the lower levels of the Palace, at specially prepared exits and among Cornelia's Royal Guard troops. Their command structure was split between Ciaran on the lower levels of the building and General Darlton in the command centre, while Villetta would command the air wing.

Each person waited with bated breath for the hour of attack, with each person spending their time waiting in different ways. Cornelia went over each contingency plan she and her staff had formulated, Darlton checked and rechecked all radio frequencies between the command and control centre and the combat units, Nonette tried to engage Dorothea, Guilford and anyone who would respond in idle chit-chat, while the Briton did a tour of each of the units on the lower levels.

It was true that since Ciaran's units would be right where the front-lines would be, he and the others would be the first to engage the enemy, both human and machine. As such, their already impressive arsenal was complimented by other weapons: forty-millimetre automatic grenade launchers on tripods, single-shot anti-armoured rockets and heavy calibre machine guns. All that could had a round chambered and pointed at the expected enemy points of entry.

But hardly anyone knew why they were doing this. Rumours of a special kind of training abounded, but the captain was tight-lipped about the whole thing.

The hours ticked down in minutes, even as the day seemed to stretch on for what seemed like eternity. Before the appointed time, at 23:00, all non-essential personnel were ordered to secure bunkers, to spare them the horrors of the expected combat and to get out of the way of any important movements. None questioned the order, seeing as how many times before they had been subjected to emergency drills, so virtually all of them didn't see any sense in questioning the order.

The countdown drew closer and those who knew about the deadline waited with bated breath. Fingers clenched hand-grips and drummed against computer surfaces.

At 23:58, General Darlton gave the order for all soldiers to be ready. Safeties were disengaged and weapons were pointed at doors, even as energy cores spun in to life as Gloucesters and Sutherland readied themselves for combat. In the hangar, the noise became deafening as the twelve co-axial rotors of the Valkyrs spun in to life, filling the space with a miniature whirlwind.

At 23:59, Cornelia braced herself as she stared down at the tabletop display of the Viceroy's Palace, observing the order of battle and waiting for Zero to appear, ready to give the order for her soldiers to unleash hell.

The seconds ticked away until the clock display switch to 00:00...

Nothing happened. The midnight air over the Tokyo Settlement was quiet save for the stirring of the wind, the cries of the seagulls enjoying the night air and the sounds of a city metropolis enjoying the night-life it had to offer.

The display switched to 00:01. Still nothing.

This was not what anyone, except for a certain dark-haired British-born captain, had expected to happen.

However, Cornelia did not give the order to stand down, keeping her forces at full alert, but even for the battle hardened troops at the Second Princess' command, the hours of inaction took their toll. On the lower levels of the Palace, Ciaran ordered the soldiers down to twenty-five percent watch, while he contacted Villetta and ordered her and her fellow pilots to shut down their engines to avoid overheating but to keep them keyed and ready.

It wasn't until 03:30 that Cornelia finally conceded that the young Briton had been right. With only the slightest hint of annoyance, she gave the order for all units to stand down.

"All personnel return to your posts." An automated message rang out over the Palace's tannoy system. "This has been an emergency drill."

From their prepared bunkers, the civilian members of the palace's staff filed out as they grumbled about their treatment, more than a few questioning if being put through an almost five hour long emergency drill counted as overtime. The soldiers and pilots returned to barracks, none saying anything, the axiom of "Hurry up and wait" being drilled in to them so thoroughly that they had no reason to question it.

There was only one member who could take some consolation from the fact that Zero and his Black Knights hadn't attacked, and he had fallen sound asleep against a wall near the Palace's entrance, with his helmet as a pillow.

* * *

The hallway was silent, the long corridor completely devoid of any butlers, maids or guards. Not a single being stirred in the long expanse of the area of the Viceroy's Palace, until two distinctly and diametrically opposing heads stuck out from behind one of the corners that intersected the hallway and peered down both ends of the corridor, one with a head of dark brown curly hair and the other with a head of straight pink hair.

"All good to the back." Ciaran said from his position.

"No-one down this way." Euphemia said from her position before she turned back around. While the young princess was dressed in one of her regular regal outfits, the older man was wearing a distinctly more pedestrian affair: a pair of dark blue jeans and a deep brown jacket over a light blue t-shirt, while around his neck and tucked under the jacket's neck, was a white and black chequered scarf.

She couldn't help but smile sweetly at the sight of the man she considered her brother, with his hair neatened up as best as he could, straighten up his outfit as he turned to look at her, spreading his arms wide as he asked: "How do I look?"

"You look like a young man going out on a date." Euphemia said happily, smiling at her friend as he nervously fiddled with the front of his jacket. Reaching forward, she softly took his hands in hers and pulled them away. "Don't worry. This will all be okay."

A small blush coloured Ciaran's cheeks as he looked the princess in the face before a small, goofy smile cam to his face. "I know. It's just... heh, I'm imaging how my parents would react to this whole thing."

"Do you mean as in you going out in a date with Dorothea or as in you dating a Knight of the Round?"

"If they knew what a Knight of the Round was, definitely the latter." The young man replied as he took a step backwards and leant against the wall slightly. "I mean; ME, dating a member of the aristocracy! They'd definitely be shocked beyond words. Hell, my poor mum would probably faint."

Euphemia opened her mouth in shock, ready to speak, although she had to admit that the idea wasn't too outside of the grounds of reality. Especially with what Ciaran had told her about his parents.

"And if we just look at it from just me dating Dorothea," He continued, "Well, they'll just be happy that I'm dating at all. Although I'm not sure how they'd feel about the age difference."

"Five years isn't too bad." Euphemia said happily, trying to cheer him up.

"Yeah, but you know people get weird if a younger male is in a relationship with an older woman." Ciaran responded, causing the Third Princess to nod her head in muted understanding. It was a bit of a rule that, in Britannia at least, a young woman having a relationship with an older man wasn't really frowned upon, especially amongst the nobility. But if it was the other way around, a young ma having a relationship with an older woman, then it was something that was frowned upon. Not so much in the nobility as it was amongst the common people, but it was still enough to draw many unwanted words.

But looking at the Briton, she didn't think that he would have that sort of problem. He looked older than his twenty-one years, which was enhanced quite a bit by his facial hair and the way he held himself in his Royal Guard uniform. She did know though that neither of those, nor the fact that he was in a relationship with a high ranking Knight of the Round would stop the more vocal of their critics spewing their ignorance.

Turning around slightly, Euphemia moved to stand next to Ciaran and leant against the wall herself.

"So... when do you plan to tell Cornelia and everyone else about this?" She asked.

Ciaran let out a low sigh. "I... I don't know. But I'll bring it up with Dorothea today."

Again, the princess nodded her head at his answer.

"How long have we got until you need to leave?" She asked, looking to her side. In reply, Ciaran lifted up his right hand and looked at his watch.

"Five minutes." He replied, prompting the pair to push themselves off the wall. Before they moved away from their section of the hallway, the young man took in a breath before letting it out again. "Okay, I'm ready for this."

Euphemia did believe him, she really did. But his eyes didn't have any of the conviction they would have. Reaching forward, she took a gentle hold of his hand. "Ciaran, is everything okay?"

"Yeah." He replied in a quiet voice. "It's just... the reality of what's happening is really sinking in. I always dreamed of brining my girlfriend home to meet the family. Now I'll never get to do that."

The young princess couldn't help the frown that came to her face. She remembered seeing how happy he had been at telling her about his relationship, a look that she herself dreamed of having in front of her own family. She couldn't imagine how devastating it must be to never show your family who you fell in love with.

Giving Ciaran's hand a gentle squeeze, she looked at him warmly. "I know with certainty that your family would be very happy to know that you fell in love with someone as amazing as Dorothea. I know I am."

This earned a smile and a light chuckle from the Briton. "You'd make a good teacher, Euphemia."

Euphemia responded by giving a small curtsey before cocking her head. "So? What are you waiting for? You have a date to go to."

This spurred the young man in to action as he straightened up the front of his jacket before, after turning a full one-hundred and eighty degrees on his heels, he began walking down the side corridor he and the Princess were in and down the main hallway.

Following him at a quick trot, Euphemia quickly caught up with him and the pair walked in an amicable silence the whole way. There was only a small number of guards or palace staff that they met on their journey, but both of their perspective ranks made sure they were not bothered during their walk.

It didn't take long for the pair to reach one of the side entrances of the palace. Like the Medieval castles of the Old World, the Viceroy's Palace had various entrances and exits that were built in to the side of the enormous building, posterns they would be called, that could be used by the inhabitants to evacuate the building if any serious attack was incapable of being repulsed. Or for people who wanted to slip out quietly for a romantic rendezvous to exist unseen.

It was outside one of these ensconced exits that the pair found Dorothea waiting for her date. Her black hair was out of it's customary side-braid, instead it was let loose to hang over her back while two small braids hung down in front of her ears. Her outfit was a simple affair: a plain white, short-sleeved vest on top, a pair of royal blue chinos on her legs and a fashionable but sturdy pair of black pumps on her feet. Even Euphemia couldn't help but feel envious of how beautiful yet strong the Knight of Four looked, even when she was at rest against one of the pillars and was gazing off in to the distance at her side.

The sound of their approaching footsteps drew her attention as he head snapped around to look in their direction, pushing herself off the pillar. A look of mute fear was on her face, but it quickly shifted in to one of relief at she saw who was approaching her.

"Your Highness, I'm glad to see you." Dorothea said, bowing her head to the Princess before she turned to look at the man beside her. "Hello, Ciaran."

Ciaran's mouth was open slightly as he looked at the umber-skinned woman, before a blush overtook his cheeks. "D-Dorothea. You... you look... stunning."

Her vantage point at the side of the group gave Euphemia a good vantage point of the frankly adorable exchange from the two. Both looked less like soldiers and more like two teenagers on their first date acted, if the movies and TV shows she watched were anything to go by.

"So..." She asked, hoping to get the two back on track. "What's the plan for you two? Anywhere special in mind?"

Dorothea was the first to recover. "Uh... I was thinking that a simple trip down in to the Settlement would be best. A little walk to the Mall, a little bit of shopping then a bite to eat."

"The classic." Ciaran said, shrugging his shoulders. However this drew confused and disbelieving looks from the two female Britannians, who did not expect him to say something like that. "What? I have an older sister. I've had to watch romcoms."

This earned a small titter from Euphemia while Dorothea shook her head while a smile came to her lips.

"Okay, then." The young princess said, coming down from her little bout of laughter. "Just so we're clear on the plan: you two will be out of the palace for four hours tops, then you'll come back here. During that time, I'll cover for you two here. Right?"

Truth be told, Euphemia was not too keen on possibly lying to Cornelia and her sister's entourage, especially not after the fact that Cornelia had adamantly stated that the Briton was not to leave the Palace without telling any of the senior staff where he was going.

'Although,' she thought to herself. 'He's told me AND he's going with Dorothea. So he's not really breaking any rules now."

"So are we all set?" Dorothea asked, looking at the man beside her.

"Yep, I'm all set." Ciaran responded with a smile on his face. "So are we taking a car from the gara-"

"Euphie! Ciaran! Where are you?" Nonette's voice called out from one end of the hall before it echoed down to where the trio was standing, causing the three to jolt up in shock.

"Oh balls." The young man said in fear, before Dorothea took a tight hold of his hand.

"We need to go. Now!" The Knight of Four hissed out in fright, before she turned to look at Euphemia. "Your Highness, I'm sorry about this but-"

The pink haired princess held up a hand to silence the woman. "It's all right. I can handle this, it's fine. Now go. Quick!"

She smiled as Dorothea gave her a warm smile in reply before her eyes opened wide in shock as Ciaran reached forward and gently pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Thank you so much for this. I owe you big time." He said as he leant back to stand upright before the pair turned around and went through the door, a quick jog at first as they went through the portal. As the door closed behind them, a smile came to Euphemia's lips as the pair began running hand in hand down the corridor before the closing door blocked any view of them.

"Hey, Euphie! Come on, where are you?" Nonette once again called out. Her voice was closer this time, accompanied by the distinctive sound of her heels clacking against the tile flooring as she approached the Princess' position.

Taking a calming breath, Euphemia steeled herself as she heard the sound of the Knight of Nine's footsteps drawing closer behind her before she turned around, giving the champagne-haired woman a happy but small smile. "Hello, Nonnette."

The older woman let out a huff as she put her hands on her hips and looked at the young princess. "There you are. I've been looking all over for you."

A confused look came to Euphemia's face. "You have? Why?"

"Well, one of the guards said that he saw you with Ciaran earlier and I just wanted to talk to you spend some time with you guys." Nonette said with all honesty. "By the way, where is Ciaran?"

The pink princess shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know. He said he had something to do in the garage, so he must have gone down there."

Euphemia mentally congratulated herself on the lie she just told. To be honest, lying didn't come naturally to her. Whether it was because of her upbringing as the Third Princess, where she always had Cornelia and Schneizel to protect her from any and all threats, or whether it was that she had never felt the need to lie or whether because she was just incapable of lying, she didn't know. But what she did know was that this lie she had just told was one of the toughest things for her to do, and she had pulled it off so flawlessly.

A look of confusion graced Nonette's face. "I didn't pass him though."

Uh oh. "Umm... pardon?"

The older woman gestured a thumb over her shoulder. "If Ciaran was heading to the garage, he'd have had to go back down the same corridor I just came down. But I didn't pass him." She let her hand down as she looked to the side of them and at the large door to the outside. "Why are we outside one of the posterns?"

A single bead of swear dripped down the side of the young Britannian's forehead, and it wasn't because of the temperature. "Uh... yeah. Ciaran said that... he wanted to go for a walk in the fresh air, so he went outside."

Nonette's eyes shifted slightly to look from the door to Euphemia. "Really?"

Euphemia nodded her head in reply. "Yes. Really."

Silence filled the space around the pair, with the young princess trying her best to mentally stop the second bead of sweat that had joined it's partner.

"Euphie," Nonette said simply. "Do you know where Dorothea is?"

"Uh... no." The Third Princess shook her head. "Nope. Not a clue."

"Right then." Nonette replied nonchalantly as she turned fully to look at her, the look in the Knight's eyes anything but nonchalant.

Looking up at the older woman's blue eyes, Euphemia couldn't help but swallow softly as she felt herself shrink under Nonette's intense gaze. 'Britannia's Hawk'. That was her nickname even before she was elevated to the ranks of the Knight of the Round. Nonette's piercing blue eyes seemed to be able to take in every detail she cast her gaze over, and that was reflected in her proficiency with guns. Pistol, rifle, sniper rifle and Knightmare weapon; there were tales abound of the woman's skill with each one, and it was no exaggeration that many battles had been cut short by the timely intervention in to the fray.

Right now, the Third Princess was feeling the full brunt of Nonette's hawk-like gaze, her blue eyes seeming to scrutinise every single facet of Euphemia's body. These were not the leery but jokey stares that the woman subjected Euphemia to when she started... 'developing', as Cornelia put it. It was the stare of hunter staring down it's prey, waiting for the other to break and run.

She wasn't sure if the sweat was actually pouring off her head or not, but to Euphemia, it certainly felt like it as she tried her best not to break Nonette's stare.

"Euphie-"

"Ciaran and Dorothea went to the Settlement together and they went through the postern gate because they didn't want anyone to find out!"

A small pair of hands clamped over Euphemia's mouth as she realised what she had just said and to whom. She had only one job and she had failed. Horribly! Small tears began to form at the corner of her eyes as she closed them in shame.

A hand gently placed on top of her head of pink hair stopped Euphemia from breaking down as, looking forward, she saw Nonette smiling sweetly at her, the hunting look of her eyes gone to be replaced with one of sisterly kindness.

"Oh, my sweet little Euphie." The Knight said, as she gently stroked the young princess' hair. "You'd make a poor politician. You're just too nice to lie."

Euphemia gave a small sniffle in reply as she brought a hand up to wipe a tear away from her eyes. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"Just a little bit." Nonette conceded as she turned to look at the door beside them. "So are you going to tell me where they're going?"

The princess shook her head resolutely. Or as resolutely as she could with slightly teary eyes, prompting Nonette to smile at her.

"All right then. We'll go find them."

"We?" Euphemia asked before letting out a startled cry as the older woman grabbed her by the arm and began pulling her along, the princess trailing behind the Knight as she was dragged along.

"I've decided that you and I shall have a girls day out." Nonette quipped as she happily marched along, completely ignoring the sounds of protest from behind her. "We've not really had the chance to do that since I've been here, so it's high time we did so. And if we so happen to run across Ciaran and Dorothea, then that'll just be perfect."

Euphemia's position behind Nonette allowed her the luxury of letting a grimace spread across her face. She had wanted to give the pair of lovers some privacy for just one day, but now this? Now she was going to actively stalking them!

"Oh, please forgive me, you two..." She whispered to the open air as she was dragged to her room.

* * *

He didn't know what made him do it, but partway through their walk towards the Omotesando Mall through the same park that Nonette took him through, Ciaran stopped and turned to look in the direction, or at least what he thought was the direction, of the Viceroy's Palace.

"Something wrong, Ciaran?" Dorothea asked from beside him, her interwoven hand giving his a soft squeeze.

"No. It's just... I just had a niggle, that's all." He replied, shaking his head to clear the thought as he turned to look at the woman beside him and gave her a small smile. "Nothing to worry about. Come on, it's a nice day."

With that, the pair continued their walk.

They had taken one of the more discreet cars from the Palace, the slightly bulbous dark blue car transporting them from the imposing white building to the heart of the Settlement. They had parked the car in one of the myriad of car-parks that dotted the area, before they took their trip. down the sand covered path, each person enjoying the closeness of the other as they passed under the shade afforded by the leafs of trees that Dorothea stated to be 'Blue Japanese Oak' (although Ciaran had no way of countering that claim since he knew next to nothing about botany) and other transplanted species of oak and maple. As they walked, they passed small well-kept beds of flowers and lovingly sculpted water-features made to resemble natural waterfalls, rivers and lakes.

It was strange how, Ciaran mused, even in the middle of an insurgency, the whole place seemed to exude a sense of true peace and serenity.

Although, for all of the outward sense of tranquillity the place exuded, there was one place that was not tranquil. And it was in Ciaran's head.

"I... uh... I hope you don't mind me taking you to the places that Nonette took me." He stumbled out, a faint blush spreading over his cheeks. "I know that I've really been here longer than you, but I've not really been to many places in the settlement so-"

A finger gently pressed against his lips silenced him as Dorothea spoke up. "Ciaran, you're talking a mile a minute."

"Sorry."

"And don't worry about it." The umber-skinned woman continued, moving to stand in front of him. "I know that you've been stuck in the Palace for the longest time, so you don't have to apologise."

A relieved smile came to the young man's face at the news that she wasn't angry, making him wrap his free arm around her shoulder and pull her in to a hug, prompting a small giggle from Dorothea before she spoke up again.

"Just don't take me to the same places she took you." She quipped, causing Ciaran to laugh lightly in reply.

"Hey, give me some credit here." He replied, a look of mock hurt on his face. "I'm not a complete fool."

A small hit against Ciaran's chest was Dorothea's reply as she untangled herself from his arms and the pair continued walking down the path to the mall.

A light breeze came through the park, light enough not to be an irritant but strong enough to stir up the well trimmed grass of the lawns while it made the leaves on the trees dance softly and to make Dorothea's hair flow with the wind, revealing the extent of the woman's beauty to the world around them. Of course, Ciaran was the only one out of the groups of people that passed to notice the way the sunlight made her eyes glint like emeralds as she turned to look at him.

"Ciaran. Is somethin-"

The feeling of his lips pressing against hers was as much a surprise to the young man as it was to her, but neither could deny that it was a happy surprise for the pair as they both melted in to their first public display of affection. Neither person paid any attention to the world around them as their lips moved against the other's until they broke apart.

"What brought that on?" Dorothea asked, a giddy smile on her lips as she looked around them in amused fear.

In reply, Ciaran shrugged. "What? Can't I give the world a little show that I love my girlfriend?"

As soon as the last word left their lips, both sets of eyes opened wide in mute shock at what had just been said.

"Your... your girlfriend?" Dorothea asked in disbelief before her tone became less surprised. "Well, I guess it was high-time we made it official then."

This caused the young man to arc an eyebrow at her. "I thought we had made it official when we kissed before. But: yes. I do consider you to be my girlfriend."

A smile spread across the Knight of Four's lips as she took in what Ciaran had just said before, taking him by surprise this time, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him in to a kiss of her own.

Once again, the pair were locked together, lips pressed against lips as they enjoyed the kiss before they disengaged. Both were quite out of breath from the display of affection. Out of the corner of his eyes, Ciaran saw more than a few people shooting them disparaging looks from a few passer-bys, while more than a few just looked surprised by what they just saw.

"Yeah," The young man said, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed about what had just happened, which was a feeling shared by Dorothea. "We should probably stop before we get done for public indecency."

"You are right." She replied before she disentangled her arms from around her lover's shoulders and turned around and began walking towards the mall.

Watching her walk away, Ciaran was shocked to see how quickly Dorothea's mood had shifted, merely from people giving her dirty looks. She walked with her back straight, yes, but it was the straightness of a soldier's back. The kind of non-committal straightness that would have made her unapproachable to everyone else, the type that tried to deflect any criticism directed at her, even as it hit home in the end.

He turned his head and shot a dirty look of his own at the few people that remained gawking at them before, moving in quick strides, he came up beside Dorothea and put one of his arms across her back, resting his hand against her shoulder. This had the result of making the woman jolt slightly, turning her head to look at him in confusion.

"What are you..."

"Ignore them." Ciaran said simply, keeping his voice level. "We're in this relationship because we love each other, not because others forced us in to it. This is OUR relationship, not theirs."

Dorothea didn't, or rather, couldn't say anything in reply as she looked at the young man beside her. "Ciaran..." Was all she mannered to whisper out before he gave one more thought.

"I have had enough with living by other people's expectations."

If he hadn't been so focused on not letting his anger overcome him, Ciaran would have noticed the concerned look on his partners face.

* * *

From her position partially crouched behind a conveniently placed bush, Euphemia watched as Ciaran and Dorothea continued their walk towards the mall, leaving the small number of people behind them as the Briton put a protective arm against the woman's back. She still wasn't sure how the Knight of Nine had managed to track the pair down, but she had done it well.

"We'll I'll be." Nonette from her side, prompting the princess to turn her head to look at the Knight of Nine. To avoid any attention, the older woman was dressed in one of her civilian outfits, a green t-shirt worn with a pair of pale blue jeans, while, likewise to avoid any undue attention, Euphemia wore a white skirt under a tan jacket and a pair of burgundy heeled pumps coupled with a pair of light tan thigh-high stockings. Her long pink hair was down in the back while she wore a pair of pink glasses with fake lenses on her face.

"Come on, Nonette." Euphemia said, sounding a little put off. "You know this isn't right. Let's go back to the Palace before we get in trouble."

The champagne-haired knight literally waved off the princess' comments, her gaze still firmly locked on the moving figures they were spying on. "I am not letting those two get away from me. Come on, they're heading for the Mall."

It was completely unexpected, even for her, and Euphemia wasn't able to tell, even when she was older, how it happened, but as she moved from a crouched position to a standing one, she snapped at the woman beside her.

"Nonette Enneagram, that is it!" Euphemia said sternly. "We are not following these two any more. They want to be left alone for their date, so we are going to go back to the Palace right now!"

A pair of disbelieving blue eyes stared up at the princess as Nonette took in what she had just said. That look lasted a few short seconds before a smile came to her face and she began chuckling.

"Wow. That was good, Euphie. You sounded almost like Nellie then. Almost. You need work on your volume a bit though."

"Nonette, I mean it." The pink-haired princess said, balling her fists at her sides. "We're being cruel. Ciaran and Dorothea want to have a nice day together. Why can't we let them have that, especially after all he's been through?"

A look of surprise again came to Nonette's face again, but this time it stayed as she took in what Euphemia said. "You are serious about this."

Euphemia nodded her head. "Yes, I am. I'm just... I'm sick and tired of seeing all of the horrible things that have been happening; Clovis being killed, all of the fighting and the killing, at Saitama, Kawaguchi, Narita, Ciaran being captured and then nearly killed. I just... why can't he have something nice for once?!"

The steady rise in the volume of her voice took the Third Princess by surprise, especially when she looked around to see if anyone had heard her outburst (they hadn't), but no less than it took Nonette by surprise, the older woman's eyes open wide in shock before a sombre smile came to her lips.

"You're a good friend, Euphie." She said as she put a hand on the teen's shoulder. "But I'm not going back to the Palace."

"Why not?" Euphemia asked, absolutely aghast at what she had just hear.

"Just like you're a good friend of Ciaran's, I'm a good friend of Dorothea's whether she likes it or not." The Knight of Nine replied as she put her hands on to the Princess' shoulders. "I like Ciaran as much as you do, maybe even more, but I still want to see if these two connect as much as I think they do."

"But they just kissed in public." Euphemia stated, gesturing to the area that the couple had been in a mere minute before. "What more evidence do you need?"

Reaching up, Nonette cupped a hand against the young princess' cheek, holding it softly as a warm smile came to her face. "Oh, my dear little Euphie. You have a lot to learn. Love is a lot more than just being willing to kiss a person in public. Anyone can kiss in public. Watch."

Leaning forward, the champagne-haired knight closed her eyes and pursed her lips slightly as she moved closed towards Euphemia's face. Which in turn made the young princess freak out in shock.

"No! No, no, no. No, I get it." She cried out in a bluster, shaking her head quickly, making her hair swing wildly.

A small chuckle came from the Knight's throat as she stood back upright. "Glad you understand. Now I'm going to follow Ciaran and Dorothea. You're welcome to go back to the Palace without me. If so, I'll see you later."

And with that, Nonette took a few steps backwards before she vaulted over the piece of shrubbery, making what sounded like a couple of old people on the other side cry out in fright at her sudden intrusion before the woman began walking off.

Behind the bush, Euphemia took a few breaths to compose herself, taking a few deep breaths, before she came out from behind the bush, giving a quick apology to the old couple before she hurried off after Nonette. It was true that she didn't want to disturb the pair on their date, but she also wanted to learn more about what love actually was.

* * *

With the unpleasantness in the park behind them, Ciaran and Dorothea could, in an official sense, begin their date in earnest. And she had to admit to herself, but the Knight of Four felt a bit of trepidation at being put as the leader of-sorts for the whole thing. Her rank as a noblewoman did not really allow her to have what could actually be described as a 'date'.

Courtship. That was what she had done for the last few years of her life. Noblemen, some good, some bad, very few good looking and far too many... just the complete opposite. All had come courting her, all came with gifts to try and woo her to them, none came with the intention of trying to make her fall in love with her. All they wanted was her title.

Looking at Ciaran as he scrutinised a brown pair of shoes, a smile came to her lips as she thought on how he treated her about her rank: like it was nothing. Well, no, that's a lie. In the right situations, the Briton did treat her as their prospective ranks allowed. But when they were alone together like this...

"What do you think?" Ciaran asked suddenly, turning slightly to present the shoe in his hands to her sight. It wasn't anything special, just one of the pairs of shoes that were made from a soft tan material, not unlike those used to make trainers, with a more sturdy leather sole. A pretty good pair of footwear if she ever saw one.

"I think they look good." Dorothea said with a smile before her face became more quizzical. "But what's wrong with the boots you have now?"

In reply, the young man turned to face away from her and presented the sole of his right boot where, right in the middle of the arch of his foot, was the beginning of a hole.

"Ah." She said in reply.

"I know that I probably should take it to a cobbler or something," Ciaran said as he turned back around. "But I feel like I should have a backup in place. Plus I could do with some softer footwear."

Dorothea nodded her head in understanding as he called over one of the store clerks to ask them about getting a full pair of shoes, which the woman, actually a teenager, quickly went to get. Soon, the girl returned with a plain cardboard box with the desired pair of shoes in them.

"Is there anything you want while we're here, Dorothea?" Ciaran asked, turning to look at the woman beside him.

The words themselves would have been enough to make a smile come to her lips. It wasn't the fact that he had asked her, as she had had several courters in her time ask her that question before. It was just the way he had asked it; "Is there anything you want while we're here." It had just been a simple question. No desire in his eyes for her rank or anything of that sort. Just the query: did she want anything?

"I'm all right for now." Dorothea replied truthfully. "But if I see anything you like, I'll hold you to that offer."

She didn't know why she did it, but at the end of her sentence, she gave a small wink. It was a quick and simple thing for her to do, but she had no idea why she did it! It just slipped out so easily. No-one else seemed to have noticed the gesture, although the slight widening of Ciaran's eyes made the blush on Dorothea's cheeks become all the more prominent.

"F-forget I did that." She said, quickly spinning around on the spot to look intently at a pair of black leather boots that were at least a full size too big for her feet.

The light pressure of a hand gently touching her shoulder made her jolt before turning around to look in to a pair of blue-green eyes filled with concern.

"Dorothea?" Ciaran asked, keeping his voice low so only she could hear him. "What's wrong?"

She didn't say anything instantly, trying to figure out what she could say to him. Instead, all she could come up with was, "Can we talk outside?"

"Of course." The young man replied, before turning to look at the teenage sales assistant. "I'll come and pick these up later, if that's all right."

After being told that it was, the pair quickly vacated the store with Dorothea leading the way until they emerged in to the busy mall proper. If she had had a mind to think about it, the Knight of Four would have found it funny that virtually of all these people had no idea that their city would have become a battleground.

But right now, her mind was on something else. Or rather, on someone else.

"Okay." Ciaran said calmly. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Dorothea repeated, giving a small scoff in reply, like he should have known the answer. "Haven't you seen how I've been acting around you over the past two days?"

"Aye, I have." Her young lover replied, slightly confused about where this was heading, "But I don't quite get what you're getting at."

"Ciaran, I have never acted like that around anyone before!" The Knight of Four replied, throwing her hands out to the side as she spoke. "I have never said any of the things that I have said to you in front of anyone, and yet you are making me say these things without even thinking about it!"

The slight widening of his eyes told her that Ciaran was surprised at what she had said, but the smile that came to his face offset that a bit.

"Dorothea, are you... are you worried about being... more open around me?"

Her eyes opened extremely wide and her jaw dropped open as his words hit home and the last segment clicked in to place! Is that what was happening? Was she becoming more open around her new lover?

Well, it did make sense, as she mulled over the thought in her head. As her lover, Dorothea did feel more safe around him, and not in a physical sense. With him close, she felt warm and secure enough to not feel the restraint that was placed on her by her rank as a noblewoman in Britannia. When she was around him, she felt... just like a normal woman.

But how could she explain that to him?

"In Britannia," She began. "It's hard for a woman such as myself to... act like a normal woman. We're constrained by all sorts of rules and etiquette. And for a woman who came from the common life, I'm expected to abide by those rules and etiquette. Even when I'm approached by a... by a complete pig of a nobleman."

That was one party she wanted to forget. Who even thinks drinking two bottles of vodka is acceptable behaviour anyway?

"But Nonette doesn't seem that fussed about the whole thing." Ciaran stated, admittedly quite confused by what she was leading to.

"Of course she wouldn't. She's Nonette Enneagram. She was born with the ability to ignore what people say about her. It's hard for people like me." Dorothea looked at Ciaran before an honest and happy smile came to her face. "But I think that's why I can open up around you."

Crossing his arms across his chest, the young man looked at the woman in front of him expectantly. "Oh really? How do you figure?"

Putting her hands behind her back, she leant back until she felt the solidness of a safety wall behind her before she spoke. "Because you're a lot like me. I've seen how you act around nobles, Cornelia and Guilford excluded, and I've seen that you don't really care for them. Around those of us that you do like, you treat us like friends. And more."

This earned a smile from Ciaran. "That's because you guys are my friends. Or... rather, more like a family to me. Except for you, of course."

The smile on the umber-skinned woman's face broadened at his words. "That is true. But there's also more."

"More?"

"Yes." Dorothea replied, nodding her head. "With you, I feel a connection. I don't think I can call it a 'soul-mate', but with you, I feel like... I don't know how to say it."

Stepping forward, Ciaran closed the distance with her, moving a hand to rest against her arm. "Try your best."

Taking a deep breath, Dorothea thought hard on what to say. "When I'm with you, I feel... that I'm not pressured to be or do anything around you. That we can just... be ourselves around each other, no matter where we are. Like... even if we were the last two people on Earth, I'd be content with that."

A low chuckle came from her throat as she realised what she'd just said.

"I'm sorry. I know this must all sound ludicrous to you, but that is how I feel about this whole thing. It's the only way I can describe it."

Looking directly ahead, Dorothea watched as Ciaran digested her words before nodding his head.

"No, I get it." He said, sounding like he had reached a quiet epiphany. "I mean, I'm a stranger to love myself, but, to be honest, all of those feelings you just described? I feel the same way."

Reaching up, he gently cupped her face in a soft touch, making her smile even as her cheeks reddened slightly.

"Don't feel ashamed to say how you feel. I know what it feels like, to have people force their opinions on you and telling you how to feel. It doesn't lead anywhere good."

"Is that why you got so worked up over those people in the park?" Dorothea asked.

"... Yes." Ciaran replied after a few seconds of hesitation. "I got... bullied a lot because of how... expressive I was with my feelings, especially in high school."

Dorothea instantly knew what he meant. She didn't doubt that Kitakyushu was the first time he had been brought to tears.

"But after I got away from there, I swore that I wouldn't let anyone else dictate how I could express my feelings, beyond reasonable limits of course. And I also swore that I would be able to enjoy a relationship, if I got one, with whoever I was with. And I won't let the fact that I'm here change that."

Looking at him, the Knight of Four saw that he was truly earnest in what he said, and she smiled as she felt the protective presence again.

"I don't doubt it for a second, Ciaran." She said as she moved her arms from behind her back to wrap around his neck. "Besides, I think I've figured out what I want while we're here."

"Oh?" An eyebrow arched in response. "And what's that?"

Moving a hand from behind his shoulders, Dorothea extended a finger before pushing it gently against the scarf that was around his neck in to his chest. "You... and me... just together. No shops, no bags, nothing. Just me and you, enjoying a day out together."

Ciaran looked at her in confusion before he smiled. "Aye. I think I can give you that."

Moving aside, the young man bent his arm at the elbow beside him, offering his arm to Dorothea, who happily placed her arm in the crook before the pair stepped off in sync towards the rest of the mall.

* * *

From their position seated on a bench discretely placed behind a bush not far from the shoe store (there's always at least one, either in a shopping mall, a park or anywhere really), Euphemia smiled as she heard what the couple said to each other before they walked away.

"And that," Nonette said as she leaned back in the seat, smiling as she turned to look at the girl beside her. "Is love. It's much more than two people sharing a kiss. It's people sharing their worries and concerns, but with surety that the other person will comfort them without expecting anything in return."

Looking at the older woman, Euphemia really couldn't help the look of surprise that came to her face. A look that the Knight of Nine did not take well.

"What? I know what love is!"

"No, that's not it!" Euphemia responded, holding up his hands defensively in front of her. "It's just... that was quite poetic."

This made Nonette shrug, her annoyance quickly forgotten. "Well, I have my moments. Come on, they're moving off, let's go."

Before she knew it, the Third Princess was suddenly yanked to her feet, earning a yelp from her at the sudden act as she was dragged on by the older woman.

"Okay, I think we've seen enough now." Euphemia said. "Can't we leave them be now?"

"No!" Nonette responded, sounding genuinely insulted by the question. "We've only just started."

Letting her head droop, the pink-haired girl resigned herself to continue to be complicit in Nonette's little adventure.

As she went along though, a thought played on her mind: why did she need to know what love was? She had no romantic feelings for Ciaran, none at all. To her, he was like an older brother, even if she knew, deep down, that she was only a substitute for the family he had lost, and he, a substitute for her own lost family. While those facts were well known to both of them, neither showed any hesitation in seeing each other as family.

Platonic love was what her teachers had called it.

So why did she want to know about romantic love?

She was sixteen years old and, as befitting the life of a royal princess, had led a sheltered life. That meant that she had not really grown up with any chance to really talk to anyone about the feelings she felt. In fact, she had never really been told about what her feelings actually were or even been told what they were. Such was having Cornelia as an elder sister.

It was just a learning experience, Euphemia told herself. She just wanted to be ready for when she found the person she did love, so she wouldn't be surprised and confused by her feelings.

That's all it was.

* * *

For the next hour, the rest of the day passed in a happy blur for Ciaran as he accompanied his new girlfriend through the mall. True to his word, they did not step in to a single shop, although they did spend a good deal of time looking in various shop windows. Admittedly though, he had nearly broken that rule twice, once at a store that sold wargaming figures and secondly at a pet store. That had taken a fair bit of strength on Dorothea's part to pull him away from entering.

"I'm sorry." He pleaded. "But I can't help it! When I see a puppy, I just... I just can't help myself."

The Knight of Four chuckled at his words. "It's all right. You've done well keeping to your word so far, so I'll let you off for that one. Besides, that Alsation pup was pretty cute."

Looking to his side, Ciaran smiled as he saw the happy blush that spread across the umber-skinned woman's face as the pair made their way towards what had to be the food court.

Even though the pair had spent almost three full hours on their feet, the young man was surprised that he didn't feel any serious pain in his feet from the constant movement. He should have been amazed, but he paid it no attention as he began chatting with Dorothea about their food plans.

"So what do you fancy for lunch?" He asked as they stopped below the stairs that split the food court in two, with the restaurants on their level while the small fast food vendors were a flight of steps above them.

"Well, I was thinking of maybe a simple sandwich, or maybe something-"

The sound of a loud crash above them cut off Dorothea mid-sentence as both she and the young man turned their head to look up the stairs.

"What was that?" Ciaran asked, as he took a step close towards the stairs, straining his ears to listen as best as he could to hear what was going on.

A loud cry of pain was all the pair needed to know what was happening.

"Up the stairs. Now." Dorothea stated, before the pair moved in to motion, another cry of pain coming to meet them.

The sounds of distress were getting louder as the pair raced up the staircase, Ciaran quickly taking the lead as the blood pumped through his ears as the source of the screams for help came more apparent.

"Hey! Come on, you filthy Eleven." The gruff voice of a man barely out of his teenage years sounded cruelly. "Come on, aren't you going to do anything?"

"Yeah, come on, say something." Another voice cut in, slightly higher in pitch than the first but just as cruel. "Say you're sorry, like all you Eleven fucks are."

Coming to a halt at the top of the stairs, Ciaran clenched his teeth as he sucked in lungs full of air. He could feel sweat dripping down the back of his neck and he definitely felt like he was getting close to overheating, even with the industrial strength air-conditioning that the mall had, but he paid none of that any mind. Because, no less than twenty yards in front of him, a group of three Britannian teens, probably only a few years younger than him, were standing around an old Japanese man, who had retreated in to a ball. From the looks of it, they had been beating the man for a while, although from the distance and the bodies surrounding the poor man, Ciaran couldn't tell if there was any blood.

"Ciaran, what's going on?" Dorothea said as she came up the stairs behind him, looking a lot less taxed by the quick ascent. The young man didn't need to turn around to see her reaction, especially if the angry intake of breath from behind his shoulder told him all he needed to know.

The Briton's fists clenched in anger at the sight of the teens laying in to the old man. He was certain that his vision was beginning to turn red from his anger, but a hand kindly but firmly placing itself on to his shoulder made his blood come off the boil as he turned to look at the woman behind him.

Dorothea was looking at him expectantly. "I know what you want to do. But you can't."

"But we can't just let them beat the poor man up!" He hissed out, although the Knight of Four didn't recoil from his anger.

"I'm not saying we shouldn't help him," She replied with a level voice. "I'm just saying: you can't do what I know you're thinking of doing."

That derailed any angry thought that Ciaran had as he arced an eyebrow at his partner. "How do you know what I'm thinking of doing?"

"Hey!" One of the teens shouted, jabbing his chin at the pair before he advanced towards them. "You got a problem over there?"

As the teen came towards him, Ciaran stole a glance past him at their chosen victim. The man, probably in his late sixties, was probably what could be considered the quintessential stereotype of an old Japanese person: short, with a balding head of white hair and tanned, wrinkled skin. Although the small pool of blood under his face made the young man's blood being to simmer again.

"You're not feeling sorry for this Eleven, are you?" The second teen sneered, planting a foot heavily on to the old man's back, forcing a low groan to come out of him.

Behind him, Dorothea spoke to Ciaran again. "Stay calm. Keep a level head. You don't any good if you get violent."

"Hey!" The first teen said, a scowl on his face as he came closer, showing Ciaran that he was indeed just out of teens: lanky, with poor patchy attempts at facial hair coupled with fair few bits of acne. "I'm talking to you."

"Yes, I heard you!" Ciaran snapped back. "You've had your 'fun'. Now why don't you be good little boys and go home? I think that you've probably got homework that needs to be done."

He took no small measure of delight in seeing the teens face change from one of contempt to angry surprise as he saw that the man wasn't going to back down. "Wha-what did you say?"

"I'm saying that you should go home before something bad happens." Ciaran replied coolly.

This remark earned a snide chuckle from the second of the group, an equally lanky teen, with the proportions of his arms and legs being akin to a gorilla's but with none of the muscles-mass. "Don't tell me you feel sorry for this Eleven?"

The Briton said nothing as he crossed his arms across his chest. "And if I am?"

A snort of derision came from the first teen. "Are you serious? He's a fucking Eleven! You know what Britannia says."

"Yes, I do know what Britannia says." Ciaran responded, uncrossing his arms and putting his hands against his hips. "And I don't agree with it. Taking a country by force and enforcing your own values and government on to them is enough to show someone that you've beaten them. But treating a conquered people's like shit? That's not showing strength. It's called being a bully."

A look of confusion came to the second teens face while the first one spoke up. "That's bullshit. The Emperor says that life is a struggle, where the strong devour the weak."

This earned an irritated scoff from the Briton. "Really? The man who lives in the single-most safest place in Britannia, with the Knights of the Round, palace guards and whatever else is in the capital to protect him? The man who I have never seen lead his soldiers from the front and yet commands them to wage war on whoever he wishes? That's not strength. That's called being pampered."

"Ciaran!" Dorothea called out in shock behind him before the young man quickly waved down her protest.

"I'm making a point here. I'm saying that it's bloody hypocritical for a man who has never had to struggle for anything in his life to preach that the strong should subjugate the weak. Having everything given to you is not strength. Strength is working for what you have, earning it through your own sweat and blood. Although I shouldn't really be surprised: all of you teenagers have your heads up your fucking arses."

"What did you say-?" The second teen said angrily before the third teen, who had spent the entire conversation looking very quizzically at the woman standing behind Ciaran, with the old man still at his feet suddenly spoke up.

"That's the Knight of Four!" The boy, a mix of both the second and first but a slightly thicker figure, said as he pointed at the umber-skinned woman with a mix of wonder and shock on his face. In response to the statement of fact, the pair of teens closer to her looked at Dorothea with the same reactions on their faces, one of them whispering out a quiet "holy crap" before they recovered from their shock.

"My Lady, you've heard what this... this man is saying." The first teen said, quickly correcting himself from swearing even more in front of a Knight of the Round. "He should be locked up."

"Or worse!" The second teen added.

Turning in his spot to face her, Ciaran was a little surprised to see the same sort of expression one would get when they had stepped in a pile of dog shit after being caught in the rain without an umbrella after missing the bus to work being directed at him. Her gaze quickly shifted to the side to look at the teens.

"I suggest that all three of you leave now." She commanded icily. "Now."

The look of shock on the teens face couldn't have been more of a delight to Ciaran if he could savour them if he wasn't so focused on the look on Dorothea's face.

"But My Lady-" The second teen began before being interrupted by the older woman.

"I know what the captain said, and I will deal with that in my own time." Okay, now he could take a bit of delight from the continued look of shock on the teens face as the umber-skinned knight continued speaking. "But I do agree with him that you three are nothing but vile, despicable bullies. Now; leave."

The three teens looked at each other in confusion, obviously unsure about course of action to take, before, with no small amount of grumbling, the three turned around and departed. The third teen, showing a little more class than the others, gave a small bow to Dorothea before he too departed.

Closing his eyes, Ciaran let out a steady breath. He swore in his head that he had been just within an inch of lunging forward and beating the closest teen himself if Dorothea hadn't been called in to interfere.

But looking back at her, the young man couldn't help but frown at the sad look that was directed at him on her face.

A pained groan from in front of them reminded both of the pair of what they had come up for as they saw the old man attempt to lift himself up from the floor. For a few seconds, the man managed to push himself up on to his feet, but as the old began teetering precariously, Ciaran and Dorothea both rushed forward to grab on to him before he fell over completely and hurt himself further.

"Hold on there, sir." The young man said as he took a gentle hold of the old man and carefully helped him stand upright. Being closer let Ciaran get a better look at his injuries. From a cursory glance, it merely seemed to be bruises and very small cuts. The man could have had more under his clothes but it was difficult to tell, but from the looks of it, the intent behind all of the injures had been to cause the man serious pain, not to kill him. Definitely a warning.

"How is he?" Dorothea asked, sounding genuinely concerned for the man.

"He's breathing, so that's a good thing." Ciaran replied before he addressed the old man. "Sir, can you hear me? Can you speak?"

A low grown came from the man before he spoke in halting English. "If... if you plan to hurt me... just do it."

Easing the man up, Ciaran let out an annoyed huff. "No, you don't understand. We're here to help."

Turning his head, the old man looked at the young man beside him in surprise, the look on his face deepening as he saw the umber-skinned Dorothea approach them with a walking stick that could only have presumed to have belonged to the old man.

"This isn't a joke?" He asked, wanting to believe what he himself had just said but still wary, not that Ciaran could blame him.

"No, sir. It's not." Dorothea replied warmly, shaking her head as she handed the man his walking stick, which the man took gingerly. "Do you know why those... those boys attacked you?"

Taking the walking stick in his hand, the elderly Japanese man set it against the ground before leaning himself against it. "Because they can. To them, us Numbers are like bugs beneath them. Eh, you must know how it is, right, missy?"

The old man beamed a forlorn smile at Dorothea who merely frowned in reply, although to Ciaran, it was just weird. He was pretty certain that the third teen from before had clearly said that she was the Knight of Four.

"Actually, sir-" He began before Dorothea cut him off.

"I'm from Barbados, not the African continent. But I understand what you mean." She said warmly, raising her voice just a little bit in volume, confirming Ciaran's suspicion that the old man must be hard of hearing.

"Oh, my apologies, miss. I hope I didn't offend." The man said sincerely. "But still: thank you for taking pity on an old man."

"It's no problem at all." Ciaran responded, ready to say something else before a high pitched voice called out.

" _Ojichan!_ "

Turning around, the pair saw a young Japanese girl, probably no more than twelve or thirteen year of age, pushed her way through the crowd that surreptitiously formed around the group. No one, except the child made any attempt to get near the group.

" _Ojichan!_ " The girl again cried out as she raced towards the old man, almost barrelling in to him as she clamped her arms around him and began talking quickly. Ciaran had absolutely no clue what was being said, but from the tone of the girl's voice and the small amount of tears in her eyes, she had been worried about her older relative.

For the moment, Ciaran wished that he could understand Japanese so that he could hear what was being said. Although the glare that was soon directed at him by the girl needed no translation.

Holding up his hands defensively, the young man began talking. "Now I know this looks bad, but believe me; I-"

"Shut up!" The girl suddenly barked, her English clear but heavily accented. "Beating on a defenceless old man. You Britannians are all alike."

"Rina!" The old man said scoldingly before turning to look at the pair. "I'm sorry for my granddaughter. She lost her parents in the invasion."

Snapping her head around, the girl began angrily talking to her grandfather who responded to her in a calm and even tone. This continued on for a few more seconds before, after some surprisingly forceful words from the old man, Rina quietened down, looking thoroughly chastised as she looked down at her shoes as he turned to look at Ciaran and Dorothea.

"I'm sorry for the trouble that I and my granddaughter have caused you. Goodbye to you both." The man bowed his head before turning to walk away from them, gently ordering Rina to follow him.

" _Sayonara._ " Ciaran said, waving his hand forlornly as he watched the pair walk past the slowly thinning crowd before disappearing from sight. "Well that really made this day turn a complete one-eighty."

"Just a bit." Dorothea responded in a sad tone of voice. "But that's Britannia for you, I'm afraid."

The young man nodded his head before he turned to look at Dorothea and the sad look on her face.

"So we going to talk about all this?" He asked, sounding as morose as she looked.

In reply, the umber-skinned woman shook her head and, moving towards him, she hooked on her arms around his and intertwined their fingers together. "Yes, but not here. Let's get some lunch."

Nodding his head resignedly, Ciaran let himself be led away from the scene, leaving the few tiny drops of blood that had been spilt on the ground to be covered up the tramp of dozens of pairs of feet.

* * *

A minute or so earlier, leaning against a low wall in the upper part of the Mall, directly across from the small food court, Nonette looked on with no small amount of pride as she watched the three Britannian teens run off with their tales between their legs. She couldn't fully hear what had been said, but it was nice to see that neither Ciaran or Dorothea had raised their voice at all against them.

"You can look now, Euphie. They've gone." The Knight of Nine said to the girl beside her who had her hands covering her eyes in fright.

"Really?" Euphemia asked timidly. "Nothing bad has happened?"

"Yes, Euphie. Nothing bad has happened." Nonette replied with a small chuckle. Ever since the pair had caught sight of the couple approaching the scuffle, the young princess had refused to look at the resulting confrontation, in case the Briton had been forced to fight the teens. Thankfully, that had not been the outcome.

Now, looking at the scene as Ciaran and Dorothea moved to help the fourth man to his feet, Euphemia let out a sigh of relief at the sight. "Oh, thank God. Did you hear anything of what was said, Nonette?"

The woman shook her head. "Not really. Well, no, that's not really true. The stuff that I did hear though is not something I'd really say in front of someone like you, Euphie."

A small blush came to the Third Princess' face before she turned to watch the couple help the man on to his feet, which provided a shock to her. "That man's an Eleven!"

Squinting her eyes as she leant over the wall, which drew a small squeal of fright from Euphemia, Nonette focused as much as she could on the man that Ciaran was helping to stand up until she could see that, yes, the man was an elderly Eleven.

"Well I'll be." The champagne-haired woman said with a smile. "Looks like Darlton's rubbing off on the guy."

The broad smile on Nonette's face stayed put as she saw the pair seem to talk amicably with the old man. This was how it should be: Britannia had to help the people they conquered, instead of just continually beating them down. The woman's opinion wasn't really that well received among the members of Britannia's ruling elite, but when did that stop her from expressing them?

"Oh, that's nice to see." Euphemia said as she observed the scene, leaning down and folding her arms against the low wall, a serene smile on her face.

"You know," Nonette said suddenly. "You never said what you'll do for Area 11 when Cornelia leaves and you're made viceroy."

Turning her head suddenly, the young princess looked up at the older woman, chewing her bottom lip gently before she turned back to look at the scene in front of them.

"... I don't know yet." She said honestly. "But I think that I would like to have Ciaran on my staff."

"As a member of your personal guard?" Nonette asked, arcing a questioning eyebrow at the young girl. "Hasn't Nellie already said that she'd assign Darlton to be the head of your personal guard?"

Euphemia didn't say anything as she looked at the trio across from them. Her attention was suddenly piqued however as she spotted something or someone unseen parted the small crowd that had gathered around them, until...

"Oh! A young girl's just ran up to them." She said excitedly, making Nonette turn her attention back to Ciaran and Dorothea.

"Oh, that's a pretty picture." The champagne-haired woman said happily as she watched the Japanese girl rush forward and clamp her arms around her grandfather, shouting something in Japanese as she hugged her relative.

From where Nonette stood, it would have made a brilliant picture, silently damning herself for not bringing her camera with her. Although that feeling quickly fell away as she watched young girl turn her head to look at Ciaran before she began snapping at him in English.

"Oh no." Euphemia said dejectedly as she watched Ciaran and the old man try to clam down the angry young girl. It seemed only marginally successful as, after the grandfather calmed her down with a loud cry that reached even her ears, he began leading his relative away from the pair, leaving them in stunned silence. "I don't understand people sometime."

"What do you mean by that, Euphie?" Nonette asked, pushing herself back from the wall to stand beside the sad looking princess.

"Ciaran and Dorothea's actions were clearly nice. Even the old man was nice to them about their help, and yet that girl just... just yelled at them!"

Nonette gave a small smile, even as Euphemia raised her voice. She knew that it wasn't in anger, just plain confusion.

"I'm sorry, Euphie." The Knight said as she reached over and pulled the girl in to a hug. "That's how people are, I'm afraid. If they grow up knowing nothing but anger, then that's all they'll know for the rest of their lives. Even if they are shown some genuine kindness, they'll dismiss it as being part of an ulterior motive."

The Third Princess gave a truly dejected sigh, one that almost broke Nonette's heart at hearing.

"Humans are strange, aren't we?" Euphemia asked, making the Knight of Nine chuckle a bit.

"Euphemia, you are preaching to the choir." She said happily before she turned her head and watch Ciaran and Dorothea begin walking away together. "Come on, they're moving off. Let's go."

This earned another sigh from the young princess. "Do we have to keep following them, Nonette?"

"Just for a little while longer." The woman replied. "From what I saw, that last bit rattled them quite a bit and I want to make sure they're all right."

This revelation surprised Euphemia, but she didn't have a chance to say anything as the Knight of Nine made her way along the pathway and down the stairs to the next level down, to the area that held the various restaurants and cafés.

Nonette couldn't help the feline-esque smile that came to her face. ' _No escape now, my pretties._ ' She thought to herself.

* * *

The myriad sounds of the café at lunchtime filled the air with a gentle murmur: waiting staff moving back and forth between taking orders and returning with trays of food and drinks, the clinking sound of cutlery hitting crockery and the blur of conversation filled the air. One side of the café was taken up by a large window, emblazoned with the eatery's name, that went from ceiling to floor and wall to wall, revealing the goings on of the inside to the world of passers-by outside.

Although at the table currently taken up by the Knight of Four and the Captain of Princess Cornelia's Royal Guard, the atmosphere around them couldn't have been more dead. Even though they had ordered their chosen food and drink in a friendly manner from the waiter and had taken their chosen meals in a like manner, a frosty silence had fallen between the two.

Watching her companion stab his fork in to a section of salad before he repeated the gesture with the lasagne in front of him, cutting a segment free which he then brought up to his mouth, Dorothea didn't really know how to broach the subject she wanted to say. But thinking back on it, directness had served well for her with Ciaran in the recent past.

"You know that I could have you reported for saying what you said about the Emperor, right?"

His mouth full of food, the only thing the Briton could do was to stare at her blankly as he chewed his food. Okay, so maybe she had to work on her timing a bit.

After a few seconds of chewing, Ciaran swallowed what was in his mouth before he spoke. "Why?"

"Why?" Dorothea repeated in confusion before lowering her voice. "You insulted the Emperor of Britannia!"

In response, the young man just shrugged. "He's sure as shit been called worse."

"But you're a member of the Royal Guard-"

"No, I'm a member of _Cornelia's_ Royal Guard." He said, cutting the woman off mid-sentence. "My loyalty to her is much stronger than my loyalty to a man I've never met. It's a big difference."

This confused Dorothea quite a bit. "Wha-what's the difference? She's Emperor Charles' daughter. Why doesn't your loyalty extend to him as well?"

Ciaran shrugged in reply. "It's... complicated. Let's say that I... kind of owe Cornelia my life and leave it at that."

Dorothea blinked in confusion at the statement that she had just been told but from the look on the young man's face, she knew that she wouldn't be able to get an answer from him if she pushed him. It was a look she'd seen before, one her own face had held.

"Besides," Ciaran continued nonplussed. "Who'll know? Those pratts only know who you are, and they'll probably be too scared to try and say anything if they know that I'm with you."

"But how do you I won't say anything?" Dorothea asked earnestly.

A small but sincere smile came to her boyfriend's lips. "Because you're still here."

The Knight of Four's eyes opened wide in shock. That was not something she had expected him to reply with.

"That... that is true." She conceded begrudgingly, earning a cheeky smile from the man sitting across from her before he carried on eating his meal. In return, Dorothea ate her own meal in silence, not able to think of anything she could say.

The sounds of the knives and forks working away at their plates and their quiet chewing filled the small space they were both in before they had finished their meal. It didn't take long before one of the waitresses came and cleared away the dirty dishes, leaving the two alone.

"So..." Ciaran said, picking his glass of cola up and swilling the glass around like a person would with a brandy. "Barbados, eh?"

"Well... kind of." Dorothea replied, shrugging her shoulders a bit as she looked down at her glass. "My mother was a maid for a nobleman who lived in Barbados, but my father was a soldier, an officer, from the African Legion."

"Ah." The young man replied in an interested tone of voice. "The African Legion?"

"It's now the 280th West African Rifles." The woman replied, sounding quite pleased with the fact. "Admittedly... I got them their official title."

Across from her, the sound of a glass being put down gently on to the table surface reached her ears as Ciaran asked. "So you're father was a-"

"A Number, yes." She replied simply, nodding her head as she watched her fingers play against the rim of her own glass of cola. "Well... no, not back then. Back then, they didn't really fall under the Numbers system."

Looking up, Dorothea saw a look of confusion crease Ciaran's eyebrows as he looked at her.

"Never heard of the West Africa Trading Company?"

A shake of the head came as a reply.

"Well, long story short, the West Africa Trading Company used locals as labour and, eventually, soldiers to protect their assets against the European Union and other hostile African nations, which later became the African Legion."

"Ah, wow." Ciaran said in genuine delighted interest. "So... how did your father end up in Barbados from West Africa?"

"Funnily enough," Dorothea responded as a smile formed on her lips. "He was sent there to train to become an officer. Apparently he had distinguished himself quite well against the German and French offensives. And this was all before Knightmares became standard, remember."

"Now that's cool." Ciaran said in wonderment as he smiled. "Sounds like a man I'd like to meet."

Dorothea's eyes lowered to the table as her voice dropped and a wistful smile came to her face. "Yeah. I know what you mean."

Across from her the man didn't say anything, the sound being made the sound of him leaning forward in his chair. The sight and feeling of him taking one of her hands in a gentle grip made her look up at him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked sincerely.

Dorothea looked at the young man across from her as she scrutinised him: twenty-one years old, and he showed more emotional maturity than people his age. If she had to write a list of his qualities that she found herself drawn to, that would definitely be in the top ten.

Bringing her glass up, she took a quick drink to wet her suddenly dry throat before she spoke softly so that only he could hear but loud enough to be heard over the overall din.

"I think I was about four or five. It was the first time I had ever been on the Homeland." Dorothea said. "The... the nobleman, Sir Mark Aitchison Young, who my mother worked for had been invited to a party of one of his friends and he had decided to let my parents accompany him and his wife as their guests to the party. Obviously, I was too young to go with them, so I was left back at the nobleman's holiday residence."

Her vision became blurry as tears began forming, unwanted, in her eyes, but she persevered with the story.

"I don't know the full story since I was so young, but on their way back from the party, the car they were all... were all travelling in-" A tremor came to her voice but she fought through it. "-was coming back in the rain when... when..."

A quiet sob left her throat before she quickly clamped her hand over her mouth, not wanting to make a scene in public.

"Hey." Ciaran said soothingly, picking up his chair with the hand that wasn't still being held tight in Dorothea's and moved it to sit next to her before wrapping an arm protectively around her. "Do you want to stop?"

Hand still over her mouth, the Knight of Four nodded her head, managing to keep her sobbing under control. Beside her, Ciaran pulled her gently in to an awkward but heartfelt hug as he did his best to physically soothe her.

"I'm sorry for bringing this up." He said earnestly as he rubbed a hand against Dorothea's shoulder.

"No. No it's fine." The woman replied, shaking her head. "That sort of memory will make anyone cry. It's just... I've not told anyone that story for a while."

Beside her, her lover nodded his head in agreement, shifting his body slightly to avoid leaning against Dorothea before he leant forward and pressed a kiss against the top of her head. It was a small gesture, but one that made her feel so much more at ease.

"So I imagine that it's after all of that that you met Darlton?" He asked.

Dorothea nodded. "Yes. Since I lost my parents and neither of their parents were in a state to look after me, I was placed as a ward of the state. Surprisingly, orphans are treated quite well in Britannia. I got food, a bed and an education. But I never felt like I had any worth, like I was just drifting around the place. Even in an orphanage, it's hard for a half-black girl to fit in. So I wanted somewhere to belong."

Now a happy smile came to her face as the umber-skinned woman wiped away the last few tears in her eyes as she remembered that fateful day for her.

"That was until the orphanage I was in had a visitor." She said wistfully. "It was before the anniversary of the Empire's Founding, which is a major holiday in Britannia and it's territories." Dorothea explained for Ciaran's benefit. "Now normally, this is a day that many of the people of the Empire, especially the nobles to put forward their 'survival of the fittest' talk, but for others, it was a chance for them to... well, to be nice. A group of nobles and officers from the army had come around to hand out presents to the orphans and to give money to the orphanage."

Stopping momentarily to take a drink from her glass, Dorothea continued.

"I was about twelve when this happened. Normally, I'd have been doing some jobs around the orphanage, helping the sisters clean up or looking after the younger children. But this time, the sister superior had specifically told me to make sure that I was here for this event." A small snigger left her mouth. "I make it sound so big when it was really just about half a dozen men and women giving out presents with a small number of photographers around. I didn't really want to, but the sister insisted I go.

"So I went to the main hall and I stood to the side, not wanting to draw too much attention. As I was looking around the hall at the various people, I saw the sister superior talking to a tall man in an officer's uniform. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but from the way they were talking and looking over at me, I could see that the man was interested in me in some way."

The feeling of Ciaran's hand gripping tightly to the side of her arm surprised Dorothea, but it made her smile that anger was his first reaction. Reaching up, she rested her hand atop of his own, calming him down quickly. "Let me finish before you react."

"Sorry, love." The young man replied as Dorothea continued with her story.

"So the sister brings the officer over to where I'm standing, and introduces him as a good friend of hers. Obviously, I had to take her word for it so I introduced myself to the man politely. Instead of introducing himself, he asked me what I knew about my father, so I told him that the only thing I knew about him was that he was a soldier. That's when the officer told me that he had been the man who had put my father up for officer's training, and he had been trying to find me for some time, seven years in fact.

"I was stunned. This was a man, a soldier, an officer in fact, who had known my father and had come looking for me. But why he wanted to find me, I didn't really understand. So I asked him. He said, very simply, that he wanted to take me away, and to give me a home."

"Well that's great-"

"Ciaran!" Dorothea butt in on the young man's butting.

"Sorry."

"Thank you. Now, as I was saying; I asked the officer why he wanted to find me, and he said that he wanted to give me a home. Now obviously, I was thrilled about this news, as any orphan would be. But then he said that, when I turned sixteen, I'd have to join the army."

"I bet that was a bit of a sucker-punch." Ciaran said before he promptly shut his mouth.

Dorothea looked at him out the corner of her eye before she smiled softly. "That's one way of putting it. At that age, I wasn't really a scrawny child. Helping the sisters with their work and breaking up numerous fights had made me quite tough and, I won't lie, I had often times thought of going for the army. But to be told that I had to join when I turned sixteen surprised me. So I asked why, why did I have to join the army?

"He said that, while he could look after me, he wanted me to take my father's place. He said that he had chosen to put my father up for officer's training to show Britannia that people from West Africa were worthy of being their equals. Now that job was mine."

The umber-skinned woman let out a wistful sigh before she continued speaking.

"Now obviously, when you're that young, you really have no idea what you want to do with your life, and to do what this office suggested? It was staggering. But something about the way this man spoke to me, his voice, his conviction, it made me want to take him up on his word. So I did, and I haven't looked back since."

The young man with his arm around her was silent for a few seconds before he spoke up. "So was this before or after Darlton got his scar?"

A loud and light-hearted laugh came up from Dorothea's throat, drawing a few sideways glances from the people around her before they turned back to their business as the woman's laugh quickly simmered out.

"No, it was a good while before he got the scar." The umber-skinned woman said happily. "You'll have to ask him how he got it though, since I doubt anything I tell you will do the story justice."

At that, the Briton beside her gave an affirmative hum before he leant to the side, resting the side of his head against hers. Dorothea appreciated the gesture.

"Thank you for listening to what I said. I know it's a lot to take in." She said.

"Thank you for telling me." Ciaran responded, the smile on his face clear from his voice. "I know it must be hard to tell someone all of that."

Dorothea nodded her head before she moved to look at the man beside her. She found herself almost looking directly in to his eyes, her green orbs staring in to his blue-green. They seemed to be resonating kindness and warmth as they looked at one another.

Leaning forward, the Knight of Four gently pursed her lips as she moved in to kiss him, to repay the kindness that he had been showing her over the last few hours the only way that she currently knew how, and was able to in public. She felt herself closing the distance, feeling his breathing brush against her own skin, feeling the very tips of his facial hair brush against the skin above her lip...

The tinny sound of a mobile phone going off made Dorothea snap her head back as she gave a subdued groan in annoyance while Ciaran answered the phone. His annoyance at the interruption as he answered the call in annoyed tone.

"Forsyth here." That tone was instantly dropped however as he realised who he was speaking to. "Oh, Euphemia, it's you. What's up?"

The woman's head snapped back down to look at Ciaran as he talked on the phone. Even from where she was, she wasn't able to hear what was said.

"Euphemia, wait... wait... Euphemia, slow down. I can't understand a word of what you're saying. You're... you're sorry? Sorry for what?"

"What's going on, Ciaran?" Dorothea asked, leaning closer to try and figure out what was being said, to which the young man shook his head.

"I don't know. She's not really making sense." He replied before he turned his attention back to the phone. "Euphemia, I don't understand what you're saying. 'Look up'?"

"Look up?" Dorothea repeated, looking up from her view of the side of Ciaran's head, which meant that she ended up looking at the far wall of the restaurant. Then she realised that since the message on the phone was for Ciaran, then she'd have to look up from his viewpoint, so she turned her head.

Which made her eyes open wide in shock.

Tapping her boyfriend on the shoulder, Dorothea tried to get his attention. "Ciaran? I think that you should look up."

Raising his head, the young man began speaking. "I don't get it. Look up at wha..."

His voice trailed off as he saw what Dorothea saw: Euphemia, looking very red faced, and wearing glasses for some reason, as she held a phone to her ear, looking absolutely flustered, and beside her, stood Nonette Enneagram, who had the biggest and probably the single happiest smile plastered on her face as she waved happily at them.

"Oh, no..." Dorothea drawled out as she slumped down in to her chair.

This wouldn't end well. Especially if the thump from Ciaran's head hitting the surface of the table was any indication.

* * *

 **AN: 30 pages. This... got a bit out of hand. I will admit this readily: romance is not my forte in writing. Combat, people being killed, general violence: all that I can do well. This story is really becoming a leaning curve for me. I seriously wanted to try and stick to my limit of 24 pages per chapter, but as I kept writing and writing, the scene with Ciaran and Dorothea in the mall kept increasing in size. Admittedly though, the original plan contained a fair few more light-hearted moments: Ciaran and Dorothea interacting with some younger kids in the park who possessed some waterguns, before using said waterguns to get payback on Nonette.**

 **However, that was not to be it seems. Ah well. For better or worse, this is what I came up.**

 **On Dorothea explaining her past, I just really had no plan for that backstory apart from her being an orphan of an interracial relationship and ending up meeting Darlton. The West Africa Trading company, yes, is an allusion to the East India Trading Company. I know that native soldiers in the employ of the EIAC were the sepoys, but I couldn't think of what the name was for their regiments, or for African soldiers in the employ of the British Empire during that time period, so I just came up with African Legion. Although another historical joke: in the time period that the Code Geass universe takes place (our 1960s), the governor of Barbados was Mark Aitchison Young. ... yeah, it's not that funny a joke.**

 **And the bit above with Ciaran explaining why Zero wouldn't attack the Palace is my attempt at a nod to one of the greatest British sitcoms of all time, Red Dwarf.**

 **Onto to real life: I am employed now! Well, only for three months, and in a completely different city to where I actually live which means that I have to live with my sister, her fiancee and her maniac cat for three months. But I get paid! Whether this has any effect on my productivity, I cannot say.**

 **Also, mrthischarmingman2 requires help. Now, from the start, this man has been one of the biggest supporters of Code Geass: A Brave New World. He has helped me develop ideas for this story by giving me suggestions and by having us bouncing ideas of each other, which is great in of itself. Then he went the extra step by starting a Code Geass fanon wiki page for Ciaran, which is amazing. THEN he went and suggest this story for a TVTropes fanfiction recommendation, which then resulted in there being a TVTropes page for this story! All by himself. A good and loyal fan.**

 **Well, as you can imagine, doing this all by himself is hard and taxing. So, I humbly ask that, if there are any of my readers and followers out there with the inclination to help a fellow fan, please help him expand the fanon wiki and the TVTropes pages. It would mean a lot to him and also mean a hell of a lot to me too. Please.**

 **So, to all of you have gone down this far, thank you for reading and if you decided to help expand the pages mentioned, thank you for that too. And to the rest I say the usual: read, enjoy and review. Until next time, good bye.**

 **ETA: I remembered but this does need to be said: this is not a harem story. Dorothea is the only partner that Ciaran will have romantically.**


	27. Chapter 27

The noises of the café swirled around the table near the middle of the floor as the two original patrons of the table glowered directly at the two new additions to the table, one of whom looked very genuinely sorry for what part she had played in the whole thing while the other just stared back at the two with a wide grin on her face.

"You can wipe that grin off your face right now, Nonette." Ciaran said sternly, his arms crossed across his chest, while Dorothea mimicked his expression and look exactly.

In reply, the champagne-haired woman shook her head, her eyes still on the pair and the smile not leaving her face. "Not a chance."

Beside him, his girlfriend let out a sigh. "To be fair, I should have expected that. But what I didn't expect was her dragging the princess along in to this."

At this the pair turned their heads to look at Euphemia, who squeaked quietly in fright at being subjected to such hostile looks.

"I'm sorry!" She cried out quietly before dropping her head to look down at the table. "It's just that she made me tell, and I tried so hard to not tell her, but she made me tell and then she roped me in to follower her and I did try and stop her but-"

Reaching forward, the older woman gently took a hold of one of Euphemia's hands, stopping her apologetic tirade and forcing her to look up at the Knight of Four.

"Euphemia, don't that that I'm angry with you." Dorothea said softly. "It's just... I know what Nonette is capable of. But I'm just surprised that she managed to rope you in to this."

This response made a smile form on Euphemia's face, an act that was copied on the couples faces too, even as they both turned to look at the oldest, and possibly the most juvenile of group.

"All right, Nonette, you caught us." Ciaran said simply. "So can we just drop this now?"

"Drop it?" The Knight of Nine repeated, her smile turning to a look of shock. "But you two... you're going out! You're a couple!"

The couple in question quickly responded with a loud ' _shush!_ ', which promptly made the woman shut her mouth.

"Yes, we are." Dorothea said firmly but quietly. "But we're not ready yet to tell anyone else. Euphemia was the only one who knew. Well, until you decided to follow us here, that is."

Ciaran's eyes opened in shock at the sheer venom that was in his lovers voice that was directed at Nonette, who, along with Euphemia, looked just as shocked as he was.

"Dorothea, I didn't follow you because I wanted to ruin your relationship." The Knight of Nine said, sounding genuinely hurt.

"Then why did you follow us?" The umber-skinned woman asked, looking at the other woman questioningly. "For god's sake, Nonette, I am an adult and I sure as hell can make my own decision with who I fall in love with-"

"But that's why I had to follow you, Dorothea!" Nonette cut in vehemently. "I have seen the other people you've had... 'relationships' with-"

"Yes. All of which you've had a part in bringing to an end." The Knight of Four responded, the anger becoming clear in her voice.

"Yes, because none of them were good enough for you!" The champagne-haired woman responded, slapping her palm against the table to get the point across. "Dorothea, I've known you for four years and I have never seen you once be with a man who has come close to treating you right or be able to make you happy."

An apologetic look crossed Nonette's face as she turned to look at the young man beside Dorothea.

"Ciaran, I like you, I really do. But I'm sorry. I had to be sure that if you were to have a relationship with Dorothea, that you were the right one for her."

A shocked and angry look came to Dorothea's face.

"But it's my choice, Nonette!"

"Yes, it is, Dorothea." The Knight of Nine said coldly as she turned to look at the other woman. "But as your friend, I have a right to say what I think too."

"And?" Ciaran asked simply, looking at the woman blankly. "What do you think?"

The question made all eyes turn to him, one pair with a look of confusion, one with a look of subdued anger and one blank look.

"Why does it matter?" Dorothea asked, her look of annoyance focused on Ciaran now.

"Dorothea, I will freely admit that Nonette following us was a horrible thing for her to do," The young man said in a placating voice. "But she is not wrong. If a friend has reservations about another friend's relationship, then they should be allowed to say what they think." Turning his head, he looked at Nonette. "So Nonette... what do you think?"

Looking down at her hands, the champagne-haired Knight didn't say anything for a few seconds as she seemed to mull over the answer in her head. It would definitely be a stretch to say that Ciaran didn't want to hear the answer, but a part of him was definitely scared about what Nonette would say.

"From what I saw of you two today, and also seeing how you two get along with each other... I think that you two are made for each other." The Knight of Nine said with a touch of finality, even as a sincere smile came to her lips.

This revelation caused a complete U-turn on Dorothea's facial expression, as her mouth moved from an angry frown to a confused smile to a full on happy grin. Looking closely, Ciaran was certain that he saw her eyes begin watering with happy tears. Reaching over, he put a hand on to her back and gently started rubbing in a circle.

"Look," Nonette said, her voice sounding more quiet as she looked at the woman across from her. "I'm sorry that I made you angry, Dorothea, but I really do care for you. We both know how horrible it can be when we're forced in to a relationship with someone we don't like just because it's expected of us. I wanted to be sure that you decided to go with Ciaran because you wanted to, not because you had to."

Okay, that stung a little bit, but Ciaran knew what Nonette meant.

Suddenly, a smile quickly formed on the older woman's face as she clamped her hands together quickly. "So... on to the main issue, since Euphie didn't say: when did it happen? When did you two first feel the power of love take hold?"

Across the table from her, the young man couldn't help but groan out in embarrassment at what Nonette said while Dorothea just put a hand to her forehead as she chuckled at the comment.

"As long as you don't make any more quips like that again," Ciaran said with a smile as he shook his head. "It was at Kitakyushu, so just a little under a month ago."

This news made Nonette focus intently on what he had just said. "It was that night? Wow. I... I didn't expect that."

Ciaran shrugged by way of a reply. "You and me both. I mean, I basically had a breakdown after combat and then..." He turned to look at Dorothea as he gently took her hand in his. "Then this wonderful woman comes along to make me feel better, even going so far as to give me a kiss."

A wistful smile came to his face as he remembered the sight of the lights from the nearby military vehicles highlighting her features as she leant in towards him, the smell of her hair and sweat filling his nose and finally the feeling of Dorothea's lips pressing against his left cheek...

"Aww..." Nonette and Euphemia sounded before the former began talking again. "But what about you, Dorothea? When did you first realise it?"

"Umm, I'm still not really sure." The umber-skinned woman replied, a small blush on her cheeks. "I know that Kitakyushu was the first time I began realising what my feelings were, but as for when I first started having feelings for him? I'd have to say it was the night I first met him properly, back at the Palace."

The Knight of Nine's eyes opened wide. "That early? But... how? What tipped you off"

This time, it was Dorothea's turn for a wistful smile to come to her face. "He... heh. He kissed my hand when I first introduced myself to him."

"He kissed your hand too?" Nonette asked incredulously, before she slumped backwards in her chair, her arms across her chest and a pout on her face. "How come you've not done that to me yet, Ciaran?"

"Because I never I got the chance!" The young man replied incredulously. "You mashed my face in to your boobs the first time we met. Plus considering how close we've gotten, a kiss on the hand is kind of redundant by now. Hell, I've even seen you topless."

"What?" Euphemia asked in shock as she looked across at the young man.

"You did what?!" Dorothea asked in angered shock as she looked across at Nonette, surging up from her seat slightly.

"It wasn't anything untoward." Ciaran replied to both, holding his hands up defensively. "It was the night after... after the attack, and Nonette had me bunk with her for the night."

At the revelation, the anger seemed to dissipate from the umber-skinned woman as she slowly lowered herself back in to her chair, even while she kept her eyes on the champagne-haired woman, who now had the decency to look guilty.

"Okay, ignoring that bit," Nonette said, shifting the mood forward a bit. "Since me and Euphie both know about your relationship now, what are your plans regarding Cornelia and the others?"

That question, out of all of the others that could have been asked, made both Ciaran and Dorothea pause their train of thoughts.

"I mean," The Knight of Nine continued. "I know that you did ask Euphie to keep quiet about the whole thing, and if you want me to keep quiet about it, then I will. But... Nellie, Darlton and Guilford... they're your friends, Ciaran. We all are."

"They deserve to know." Euphemia added, leaning forward in her chair. "And remember what you said, about how you didn't know how your family would react. Well, we're your family here."

Closing his eyes as he leant back in his chair, Ciaran let out a sigh as he let the words fly around in his head.

She was right, and he knew it. They had said it themselves.

Euphemia: _"Well, I guess we'll be your family then."_

Cornelia: _"You aren't alone, Ciaran. I want you to know that."_

Darlton: _"If you ever need advice, come and ask me. Okay?"_

It would be stretching the truth quite a bit if the young man were to say that he felt like crap over trying to hide the fact he was in a relationship from his new foster family.

"She's not wrong, Dorothea." Ciaran said, lifting his head up to look at the Knight of Four next to him. "They have a right to know."

Beside him, the umber-skinned woman took in his words before she placed a hand on top of one of his own, tracing a series of loops in the hairs on the back of it as she nodded her head.

"You're right." Dorothea said, smiling sadly. "Andreas is like a father to me, so I can't imagine us having a relationship without him knowing about it."

Ciaran nodded his head. He felt the same way about his own father, although that feeling was made more morose by the fact that he would never know.

Well, looking at it, one out of two wasn't too bad.

"All right. We'll do it today when we get back." He said, turning his head to look at the two other women across from him with a smile, both of whom returned the gesture.

"And we'll support you all the way." Euphemia said, looking decidedly pumped up for the situation.

"We know you will." The Knight of Four said with a happy smile, even as she eyed Nonette out of the corner of her eye. Quickly though, the stink-eye fell away and was replaced with a sad expression. "Nonette, I'm sorry about before. I-"

"Dorothea, save it." The champagne-haired woman said, interrupting the other woman mid-sentence. "I'm just looking out for you. I know you'd do the same for me."

The agreement altered the mood significantly, with smiles coming to the faces of all of the occupants of the table. Ciaran couldn't deny the happy feelings that radiated from the three women and through him.

So this was what it felt to admit to the people you loved that you were in a relationship.

It felt good.

"All right then." Nonette said, standing up. "Let's get back to the Palace. I think that Cornelia will have probably noticed by now that we've disappeared, and the sooner we get back, the better."

"Oh, I forgot about that." Ciaran admitted, looking a little bit scared at getting the Second Princess angry twice in as many days, especially after she had little sleep. "Ah well. Can't be helped. I'll get the cheque."

"No, no you won't." Euphemia said, as she raised her hand and flagged down one of the waitresses. "We put you two though a lot of trouble today, so we'll pay for this."

"We will?" Nonette asked, to which the Third Princess replied with a pointed glance. "Oh, right. Yeah, of course we will."

Neither Dorothea or Ciaran could suppress the chuckle that came to them as they watched the champagne-haired woman reach in to one of her pockets to pull out her purse as one of the waitresses came to give the cheque. Although as the woman drew nearer, a thought suddenly came to the young man's face, causing him to slam the ball of fist in to his forehead.

"Ah, I almost forgot about the shoes!" He said, ignoring the pain that his fist had caused. "Ow." Almost.

"It's all right." Dorothea said, as Ciaran rubbed his forehead slightly. "You head back to get them, we'll meet you at the entrance to the Mall. Okay?"

"Sounds good." The young man replied as he stood up from his seat, retrieving his hat, before leaning down and kissing her on the lips. "I'll see you guys shortly."

Euphemia and Nonette responded in more or less the same manner, albeit a bit distractedly for the latter as she was forced to pay for some food that she didn't even eat, as Ciaran exited the café and moved at brisk jog down the thoroughfare towards the shoe shop his shoes were waiting at.

As he moved, the Briton couldn't help but feel like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. It wasn't a substantial weight, but it was a weight nonetheless and he felt so relieved because of it. He felt so great, like he had been given a full boost of energy that didn't feel like going away any time soon. He knew it was horribly clichéd to say it, but to Ciaran, everything felt more... clear.

The sky was blue, the leaves were greener, everyone looked more alive. Heck, even the guy with long white hair clutching his head in pain as he walked past the Briton looked more...

Ciaran stopped in his tracks before he turned to look behind him, trying his best to look for the man with long white hair, a pair of oversized headphones and a pair of silver sunglasses over his eyes, but the crowds behind him had swallowed him up.

A warning went off in the young man's head. A primal warning, one that spoke of danger and caution, screamed in the back of Ciaran's mind, and it had all been set off by that man passing him.

Squinting his eyes, he tried to catch even a glimpse of the man who had passed him, but one of the rules of the universe came in to play: no matter how distinct a person was, if they went in to a crowd of a large enough size, they would eventually disappear.

Putting the image of the man in to his memory for later, Ciaran grudgingly turned back and headed back to the shoe store to collect his purchase.

The sooner he got away from here and back to the Palace, the better.

* * *

Needles.

Needles and saws.

Needles and saws and knives scratched away at his mind.

Clutching his head tightly, the white haired man made his way through the crowds as he sought some respite, some refuge from the sounds. Even the voices of all of the other people around him couldn't drown out the noises passing that man had generated in his head.

Pushing his way through the crowds and ignoring the indignant replies from the people, Mao looked for a secluded space as he could find among the crowd. Ducking to the side, he spied a corridor that lead away from the main concourse and followed it quickly.

After rushing down the corridor, he quickly got out of breath. But putting his hand against the wall to his side, gasping for air, he saw that he was too far down the hallway for anyone to be near him.

Taking a steadying breath, Mao leant against the wall before sliding down. That... infernal noise had finally gone, only the soft voice of CC comforting him.

" _Mao, Mao... Just listen to the sound of my voice... That's it._ "

Even those words, the most soothing of words that flowed like honey through his ears couldn't dampen that horrible noise that came when he passed that man.

If Hell had a sound, it would be like that. That horrible, persistent scratching that started as just a little sound at the edge of his hearing before quickly becoming something that sounded like it was right in his brain.

Having his breathing under control, Mao pushed himself up as he thought over the encounter: the sound had started when that man, the man with green cap and the black and white scarf, had gotten close to him, then it got louder when the man was right beside him, then it went away when Mao was furtherest away from him.

In all of his time with CC, Mao had never heard of that sort of phenomenon before. It was, in a word, horrifying to experience.

Making sure his headphones were in place over his ears properly, he pushed the volume up further as he began walking out back towards the Mall interior. That mystery man had gone, and no-one seemed to have called the police, so Mao strolled casually out of the corridor and was swallowed back in to the crowd.

He pushed the short-term memory of that encounter back the dark corner of his mind as he thought more clearly on his goal, even more so as her words filled his head again to drown out the noise of the crowd.

" _Since my mind is the only one you can't read, and you can only be happy when you're with me._ _  
_ _I'll stay with you always... Yes, I'm right here... Mao..._ "

"CC..." Mao said wistfully as he made his way through the crowd.

* * *

With shoebox in had, Ciaran made his way out of the Mall and to the exit that was near the car park. Spying his lover standing by the dark blue car the pair had arrived in, he picked up his pace until he was near her.

Instead of waving, Dorothea simply leaned forward and rested her arms against the metal top and her chin against them. On a hot July day, such an act would have been unbearable, but she had parked it under a shaded area. Admittedly, the car-park that served the Mall and the park were one in the same, it had been specially placed to allow the option for either a quick walk or a short walk in to the Mall.

"Got them." The young man said, spinning the box between his hands before stopping it. "Ready to go?"

Looking at him, Dorothea couldn't help but notice that he looked a bit distracted. He wasn't having second thoughts, was he?

"Ciaran? Is something wrong?" She asked tentatively.

"... I just saw what had to be the strangest person I've ever seen since I got here." Came the reply very quickly.

Dorothea's eyes opened wide at what her lover said, although as he turned around to look behind him, she couldn't help the smile that came to her face as she realised that he wasn't have any second thoughts about telling everyone.

The sound of a honking horn behind them made both of them turn around, as they saw a dark green car pull up behind them. The passenger side window was open allowing Euphemia to look out along with Nonette, who leaned over from the driver's seat, a pair of fashionable sunglasses on her face.

"Hey! Love-birds!" The older woman yelled out, making the Third Princess flinch at the volume and closeness of her voice. "Let's get a move on."

"Yeah, yeah." Ciaran said, a cocked smile on his face as he opened his door and climbed in.

"We'll be right behind you, Nonette" Dorothea said as she entered her own door and sat down, buckling her seatbelt as she did so. Beside her, the Briton was already belted up and ready to go, casually drumming a nonsensical rhythm on his lap as he looked out of the front window.

Not being able to help herself, she reached over, gently weaving her fingers in to the hair on the back of Ciaran's head, her digits digging through the curly locks of hair. The action didn't make him jump but it did make him turn his head to look at her, a smile on his face before she leant forward and planted a kiss straight on his lips.

The Knight of Four loved the feeling of Ciaran's facial hair rubbing against the skin around her lips now. The way the coarseness of the hair scratched slightly at her skin while the hair itself made her skin tickle as she smiled in to the kiss. The gesture wasn't missed as she felt her lovers lips turn up in a smile of his own.

Disengaging from the kiss, the pair looked at each other happily in silence, completely ignoring the sound of the horn from Nonette's car.

"I think that we should get moving." Dorothea said dreamily, still looking straight at Ciaran and completely ignoring the world outside the car.

"Yes, we should." Ciaran replied in kind, raising a hand to stroke her arm.

They stayed like that for a few seconds before a particularly long blast from the second car brought them out of the moment.

Turning reluctantly to the front windscreen, the pair couldn't help but smile happily at the sight of Nonette giving them a small glare while beside her, Euphemia just waved happily at the pair, before the car pulled away, leaving Dorothea to start the car's engine.

"Might as well face the music." The umber-skinned woman said as she set the car in to drive and rolled it out of the parking space before they moved in to the myriad traffic that flowed through the Tokyo Settlement. As there was no way for them to move through the traffic quickly, the pair of cars had to deal with the various snarls and snares that existed on the roads of a city.

One such snare being a particularly long traffic jam on one of the main roadways. Dorothea could see Nonette's vehicle two cars in front of them, but she didn't mind that much. It merely meant that she and Ciaran got to spend more time to talk about what had happened.

Turning her head, she opened her mouth to speak, only to see the young man staring out of the passenger window, his hand on his chin in a contemplative gesture.

"Ciaran?" She asked, making him turn his head around to look at her. "Something on your mind?"

Leaning back, the dark-haired Briton put his hands behind his head, the contemplative look still on his face. "I was just thinking about what you told me before Nonette and Euphemia found us."

"Oh?" Dorothea asked, a little bit worried about where this was going. "And... what about it?"

"Traffic's moving." Came the reply, with Ciaran pointing out the windscreen to the sight of the numerous cars in front moving forward.

"Oh!" The Knight of Four said in surprise before she put the car in to drive to roll with the moving traffic. Before long, they had moved on to one of the main high-rise roads in the Settlement. "So what made you think about what I told you?"

Looking to his side, Ciaran was silent for moment before he let out a small sigh and began speaking. "It's just... your story really reminds me of... someone I know."

A dark eyebrow raised above one of Dorothea's green eyes at the comment, even as her vision was fixed on the road in front of her. "Who are you talking about?"

Moving his arms down to cross over his chest, Ciaran looked out directly in front of him, obviously unsure if he should answer the question as he drummed his fingers against his bicep. Closing his eyes again, he spoke slowly and softly. "Dorothea, before I answer, I want you to promise two things from me: that you won't get angry about this and that you won't tell anyone else about what I'm telling you. Promise?"

That comment made the Knight of Four take her concentration off the road to look at the man beside her in shock, before she remembered to look back at the road. "Wait, what?"

"Just promise me and I'll tell you." Ciaran replied, his arms still across his chest. "Don't worry, it's nothing seedy. But to the wrong ears, it might be... dangerous information for them to use against me."

Still keeping her eyes on the road, Dorothea gently bit her lower lip as she thought over what she had just been told. Keeping a secret was something she was quite good at, but that was only with small, harmless secrets. Like the time she caught Monica trying to order some leopard print underwear. Harmless things. But this... it sounded like it could be blackmail material in the wrong hands.

Beating her fingers in a gentle tattoo on the steering wheel, Dorothea nodded her head. "All right. I promise I won't get angry and I won't tell anyone else about it. So what's up?"

Moving his hands to rest against his knees, Ciaran finally spoke. "Okay, so I'm sure you remember the pilot of the red Glasgow you crippled in Kitakyushu?"

Dorothea cast her mind back to that night: the darkened warehouse stretching out around them, the dead Knightpolice unit slumped on it's knees at the feet of the _Caradoc_ , while in front of her, the Black Knight's Glasgow unit, lying forlorn on it's front, with an arm and a leg missing. She remembered the girl, with red hair and a red outfit, standing up in the opened cockpit block, her arms above her head as a fireteam of infantry aimed their guns at her.

"Yes, I remember her." Dorothea said flatly, unsure about what to really say about her.

"Her name is Kallen Kozuki, at least when she's using her mother's name. Using her father's name, she's Kallen Stadtfeld." Ciaran said with equal flatness in his voice. "She's half-Britannian, half-Japanese."

The Knight of Four's eyes opened wide in shock. The only thing she had been told about her was that she was called Kallen Kozuki, but she didn't know that she was half-Britannian.

"How did you find this out?" She asked.

"I talked to her when I was taken captive at Narita. It was the same night too actually." Ciaran said, an amused smile on his face that confused Dorothea somewhat.

"So... what made you think of her from what I told you about my past?" The umber-skinned woman asked, turning the car around a gentle corner with a straight shot towards the Viceroy's Palace.

"It just made me think." He replied. "It's funny how people with almost the same backgrounds, given the right push, can go in completely different directions with their life. You became a Knight of the Round, while became entangled with a terrorist insurgency. It's quite sad really."

Dorothea would have had to been deaf to miss the sadness in Ciaran's voice. "You pity her?"

"Pity's not the right word." Ciaran said, shrugging his shoulders slightly in his seat. "It's more... it's like watching a child walking in to the path of a speeding vehicle while you're over a hundred feet away from them. You can run all you like, but no matter how hard you push yourself, you can't save her."

A thought popped in to her head, but something nagged at her first. "You called her Japanese."

Again, her lover shrugged his shoulders. "Japanese. Eleven. A person's a person, no matter what you label them."

She knew that she should have expected those sorts of feelings from Ciaran, but it still made her smile to hear him say what she had suspected about her lover. "You're taking this quite personally, aren't you? With Kallen, I mean."

A melancholy look on his face, the young man nodded his head. "She's been told that if she throws her lot in with Zero, then she can help her mother and the Japanese people. Hell, I even got Darlton to call off the surveillance detail that the government had following her."

"What?!" Dorothea cried in a knee-jerk reaction, almost bringing the car to a complete stop, which also meant that Ciaran was thrown quite quickly forward in his seat, causing him to cry out in shock and pain before the car carried on moving forward. "Oops, sorry."

"Ow? Dorothea, why did you do that?"

"I'm sorry! It's just... you had Darlton call off the surveillance team on a known terrorist. Do you not know how dangerous that is?

"Of course I know it's dangerous!" Ciaran snapped back, looking genuinely offended. "But, I've also seen how you Britannians treat these sorts of people and I don't want her to be killed when I know I can help her leave the Black Knights."

The anger dropped from Dorothea's face as she heard the conviction in her lover's voice. He meant every word of it, and she felt ashamed at having questioning his motives. ' _He really cares about Kallen._ ' She thought to herself.

As the car continued on it's way down the roadway, the inside filled with an uncomfortable silence as the two occupants settled down from their first argument. Outside, the buildings flew past until Dorothea made the car turn a corner and headed towards the gate that led to the garage of the Viceroy's Palace. A pair of guardsmen stopped the car, but quickly waved it through when the windows were lowered enough to let them see the heads of the pair fully, allowing them to enter the spacious garage that contained the various staff cars and nondescript motors to be used by the Viceroy and her staff.

Pulling the dark-blue car in to the vacant spot it previously filled, the Knight of Four killed the engine.

"So?" Ciaran asked out of nowhere as Dorothea began unbuckling her seatbelt.

Her hand gripped around the fabric lifesaver, she let it slide gently through her hand as she mulled over what she had been told. Ciaran had willingly let a known terrorist, a dangerous terrorist at that, basically go free. All because he believed, very strongly believed, that he could get her to leave the Black Knights.

She knew that if he succeeded, the only reward Ciaran would get personally is the knowledge that he had helped Kallen. And if he failed... now that didn't bear thinking about at all.

"It's so little to gain, but so much to loose." She said softly, although in the close confines of the car, there was no way that her partner couldn't have heard her words.

"That's the problem with doing the right thing." The Briton said. "I know that if I succeed, only a small handful of people will know about it. But if I fail... then I have fucked everything up."

Dorothea nodded her head in agreement, before she sighed and put a hand to rest over one of his hands.

"Ciaran, what I'm about to say, I don't want you to take it as a criticism." She said softly. "But you're too nice. I do agree that if this goes wrong, this girl will have to be killed and I'm sad about it. But if it has to happen, then it happens."

The downcast look on her lover's face told her that was not what he had expected to hear, but she gave his hand a gentle stroke with her thumb in a reassuring gesture.

"But for what it's worth, I do think that it's worth a go." Dorothea said warmly. "And for the record, I'm not that angry with you, and I also won't tell anyone else about this. Okay?"

Ciaran nodded his head as a relieved smile spread across his lips, happy that he was able to state his case.

The sound of someone tapping at the driver's side window drew their attention, making Dorothea turn to see Nonette standing outside the car before she rolled down the window.

"Glad to see you two finally made it." The Knight of Nine said, smiling. "Euphie's gone ahead to get Nellie and the others. So you two ready to get this over with?"

Looking back to Ciaran, Dorothea saw that he had moved his hand to wrap around hers, making her smile.

"I'm ready." The Knight of Four said to the young man. "Are you?"

He nodded his head. "I'm ready."

Dorothea exited through her door, her friend stepping back to let her out while Ciaran unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his open door before the trio moved towards one of the elevators and exited the garage.

* * *

Rubbing two of her fingers on each of her hand on both sides of her temples, Cornelia paced back and forth behind her desk. She could very much feel the beginnings of a migraine forming in her head and she knew exactly why.

She had sent Nonette to try and find Ciaran and Euphemia, since Dorothea had not answered the messages sent to her and the Second Princess had a good feeling that the two would know where the Knight of Four was. It should have taken only a few minutes, but then the four of them had disappeared completely for three hours!

And no less than five minutes ago, her younger sister had suddenly appeared in her office, dressed in one of her civilian outfits no less, with Guilford and Darlton in tow. Before she was able to ask any questions, Euphemia simply told the pair to wait in the office before she left the three alone in stunned silence.

Right now, the two men were watching her intently to see what she would do.

"I'm going to kill him." Cornelia said out-loud, not interrupting her movements. "I am seriously going to kill him."

"Your Highness, I think that might be an overreaction." Her Knight said, trying to placate his Princess, but his words fell on deaf ears as Cornelia continued her rant about the youngest member of her staff.

"I told him. I fucking told him that if he was to go out, then he was told to either tell one of us or to have one of us go with him. Then he just ups and disappears, not only with Euphemia, but two Knights of the Round too!" She growled out, finally stopping behind her chair as she gripped the headrest tightly. "Oooh, I find out that he's been doing something with those three, I'm going to-"

"Cornelia!" Darlton yelled out in disgust. "You can't seriously be suggesting that Ciaran would do something he shouldn't, especially with Euphemia?"

Her hands still on the back of her chair, the Second Princess drummed her fingers against the woodwork of the chair as she turned to look at the scarred general. "... I... No, no I'm not. I'm just... Gah! I'm just so annoyed at him. He seems to make it a habit of following one order of mine and then ignoring the other and continuing that pattern."

In front of her, she heard the general sigh softly. "Yes, I am aware of how he acts with the rules, but from our recent history with the lad, it seems that the times he does ignore your orders, it's not of his own volition. And, he does apologise for it afterwards anyway."

Cornelia looked Darlton as she took in what he said, nodding her head. The only serious time that she knew that Ciaran had explicitly ignored one of her orders was at Narita, and that was because he carried out an order from Euphemia to come to her rescue. Even if the act did end up seeing him getting captured, he had truly been remorseful for it.

Sighing loudly, she let her body lean forward, resting her forehead against the top of the headrest of the chair.

"I know that I shouldn't be angry with him. I know I really shouldn't." Cornelia said quietly. "I'm... I'm sleep deprived and I'm just angry in general that Zero did nothing last night. So I think I just wanted to vent."

Both men nodded their heads, knowing the source of their Princess' displeasure well, before Guilford spoke up.

"Your Highness, I am positive that Ciaran will have a good explanation for why he and the others disappeared. Let's just hear what he has to say before we put any judgement on him."

Cornelia nodded her head as she pushed her head up from her chair, taking a steadying breath before she spoke again. "You are right, Guilford. He's a good man. I shouldn't think to harshly of him."

The pair of men nodded their heads in agreement as the Princess moved her chair back and sat down on it, sinking in to the plush cushions of the seat as, sighing again, she put her right elbow on the armrest and rested her head on to her hand, closing her eyes as she did so.

A trio of knocks sounded on the door, although the sound did hardly anything to make Cornelia open her eyes.

"Let them in, Guilford." She said sleepily, not opening her eyes as she heard her Knight move towards the door before he opened the wooden portal and let the others in to the room. After a few seconds of the sounds of shuffling feet, Cornelia opened her eyes and fixed them on to the two people, Ciaran and Dorothea, standing directly in front of her. To the corners of her vision, she saw that Euphemia and Nonette had taken up positions on the sides of the pair. All were dressed in civilian garb.

"Your Highness." The umber-skinned woman said, bowing her head.

"Princess Cornelia." The Briton said, copying the gesture.

Cornelia stayed silent for a few more seconds, taking mental notes of how the pair carried themselves. They looked ready for something big to happen, but they also looked like they wouldn't like the outcome at all.

"All right." The Princess said, pushing forward slightly in her chair to put her hands on to the desk and look at the pair in front of her. "I will accept that you two are adults, and that you are free to do whatever you two want to do within reason and the confines of the law. However, and I cannot stress this enough, you two must also realise that we are in a very trying time right now."

She kept her voice low, keeping the desire to yell at them down, as she turned her head to look at Dorothea and continued speaking.

"Dorothea, I know that as a Knight of the Round, you are sworn to the orders of my father and Lord Bismarck, but I can trust you to follow the orders that I give when security is concerned. Right?"

The Knight of Four bowed her head. "Yes, Princess. I do."

Cornelia nodded her head before she turned it to look at the young man. "Good. And Ciaran. I am sure you know that, simply as your superior officer, that you are to follow the orders that I give you, again, when security is concerned. Correct?"

A nod of his head. "Yes, Your Highness."

Closing her eyes, Cornelia pushed aside the anger that was welling within her before she spoke again. "Good. So please tell me, where did you two go to?"

Ciaran answered for them. "We went in to the Settlement, Your Highness. Specifically the Omotesando Mall."

"And why did Nonette and Euphemia go with you?" The purple-haired princess asked as she opened her eyes.

"Technically, they didn't go with us." Dorothea replied. "They... they kind of followed us."

… Okay, that was not what Cornelia expected to hear. Sitting up more stiffly in her chair, the Princess looked at the two in front of her as she spoke again. "So... why did they follow you two in to the Mall?"

At this question, Ciaran's and Dorothea's posture suddenly shifted, both becoming more physically nervous. The Knight of Four moved her hands to in front of and below her waist as she began wringing her hands, while the captain brought his hand up to scratch at his beard, moving his eyes to look away from the Princess.

Turning in confusion, Cornelia looked at Nonette to her right. "Nonette, do you know what this is about?"

The champagne-haired Knight simply shrugged and shook her head. "You need to hear it from them, Nellie."

Turning back to look at the pair, Cornelia shook her head in exasperation before she asked the question. "Why did you two go to the Mall?"

Both remained silent for a few seconds before Dorothea spoke up hesitantly. "We... we were on a date."

It took less than a second for Cornelia's eyes to snap open in surprise, a gesture that was shared by both Guilford and Darlton behind the pair.

"A... a date?" The Second Princess repeated in confusion. No, she must have misheard what she had said. But it was Ciaran who decided to confirm it.

"Yes, Your Highness. We... we went on a date."

Looking at the young man, Cornelia saw that the nervousness had gone from his body, replaced by a small smile on his face. To his side, she saw that the smile had been carried over to Dorothea too.

But she still couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Are... are you two suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

Neither person said anything in reply. They simply turned their heads to look at each other, still smiling. A small piece of movement from below drew Cornelia's attention as, looking down with still widened eyes, she saw the two link their hands together, interlocking their fingers, before they turned to look at her directly.

Behind the pair, Guilford's jaw dropped in shock while Darlton just stared in surprise at the pair.

"...what?" Cornelia asked, staring at the pair in front of her blankly.

Euphemia responded happily, bouncing up and down on her feet slightly as she said. "They're in a relationship! Isn't that great?"

At the outburst, the older woman turned to look at her younger sister blankly as she took in what the pink-haired teenager had just said: she was far more subdued than normal.

"You knew about this, didn't you?" She asked simply, before she turned to Ciaran, raising the volume of her voice slightly as she asked him. "You told her but you didn't tell me?"

In his defence, the young man looked genuinely guilty before he spoke. "Well, to be fair, we didn't really plan her finding out about us."

"That's beside the point, Ciaran!" Cornelia snapped back, her voicing rising another level in volume before she put both hands against her head. "It's just... you are in a relationship with a Knight of the Round. Is that what you're telling me?"

Moving her hands to the side of her head to look at the young man, she didn't say anything as she saw him nod his head simply. "Yes. I am."

The hands at the side of her head fell away as the Second Princess fully took in what she had been told, unsure of how to process what she had just been told.

"Right. Let's take this from the top," She said, putting her hands flatly on to her desk before she took in a small breath. "When did this happen?"

"Do you mean as in 'when did you too fall in love' or 'when did you two decide to become a couple'?" Dorothea asked for clarification, but she quickly shut up when Cornelia directed a particularly vicious glare at her.

This did not earn a positive response from the young Briton as he took a step forward to interpose himself between the two women. "Princess Cornelia, I do apologize for not having kept you, or the others in fact, in the loop as to mine and Dorothea's relationship. But... the fact is, we just weren't ready to tell anyone else yet."

A perfectly groomed eyebrow arced up as she listened to what Ciaran was saying. Granted, she did have an idea of what his fear would be, but the confusion did soften her facial features a bit, although it was Darlton who spoke the question that was on her mind.

"Wait a minute. Why wouldn't you be ready to tell anyone else if you knew you were in love?"

Turning her head, the Princess looked at the scarred general as he spoke. From the tone of his voice, he was taking a vested interest in this.

In front of her desk, the Briton took in a deep breath before he gave his answer.

"Because... this is... my first relationship."

If any phrase was going to plunge the room in to absolute silence, that was it.

"This... is your first?" Cornelia repeated, still in shock over what she had just heard.

"You could have fooled me, you sly dog you." Nonette said, looking at the young man in surprise.

In reply, Ciaran just shrugged his shoulders. This prompted Cornelia to, once again, her hands up to her head. This was just getting too out of hand.

"Now hang on a minute." Darlton said, butting in to the conversation before the Second Princess spoke. "Ciaran, there's something I have to ask you: do you love Dorothea?"

This earned a disbelieving look from the young man before he replied with a vehement and loud, "Yes!"

Holding up her right hand for silence, the Second Princess stopped the conversation from going any further. "Okay, okay. I can accept that you and Dorothea are in a relationship. But I have to ask something too, and I really think that this is one of the most important questions here; but do you two know what this sort of relationship entails for both of you?"

She knew that the question would mean two different things to the two different people, and if she got the answer that she wanted from one of them, she'd be happy.

The Knight of Four nodded her head. "Yes, Your Highness. I have."

Ciaran's reaction... "Uh..."

That was all the incentive the Britannian royal needed to surge up to her feet and march around the desk, before quickly grabbing on to the scruff of the Briton's jacket and dragging him towards the door.

"Cornelia!" Her younger sister cried out in shock.

"Your Highness!" Dorothea called out after her.

"Don't worry, Dorothea," The Princess responded as she moved towards the door. "Me and Darlton need to have a little word with your boyfriend here. Darlton, come with me. _Now!_ "

Moving quickly at the command, the scarred general headed towards the door, his long legs letting him cover the distance smoothly to reach the Princess just as she opened the door and pushed the young man through. Holding it open, she let the older man past her before she moved to close the door.

Looking in to the room, Cornelia saw that both Nonette and Euphemia had moved to comfort an obviously distraught Dorothea while behind her desk, Guilford stood their impassively.

Sighing softly, the Second Princess let a sad smile as she closed the door softly before turnin to look at a very confused Ciaran while Darlton moved to stand at the side and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Cornelia, if this is about me dating someone older-" The young man began before the Princess silenced him by holding up one of her hands.

"No, Ciaran. That's not why I had to pull you aside." She said.

"Well, if it's because she's a noblewoman and I'm not-" Ciaran began again before Cornelia cut him off again.

"Ciaran, shut up and let me talk!" She snapped loudly, making him clamp his mouth shut. Taking a deep breath, Cornelia steadied herself before she spoke. "Ciaran, I need to know: do you plan to tell her?"

A confused look over came to the young man's face. "What do you mean?"

Darlton spoke up in response. "Neither Nonette or Dorothea know that you came from another world. How are you going to explain that to her?"

Realization came to Ciaran's face as he took in what the general had said. "Shit," He whispered out. "I never thought of it. Oh man, I feel like such an idiot."

Moving closer, Cornelia put a hand on to his shoulder, giving him a reassuring rub before she began speaking.

"That's not all we need to talk about." She said softly but sternly. "Ciaran, we've still not been able to establish what brought you here, or whether you staying here is temporary or permanent. I... I don't even know how I'll feel if you suddenly up and disappeared one day. But how do you think Dorothea will feel?"

Shock came to Ciaran's face as he obviously thought over the implication, his eyes opening wide before they became teary. Her words had obviously struck a particular nerve with him and Cornelia felt guilty at saying what she had said. Reaching forward with her other hand, she took a hold of the other shoulder as she looked him square in the eyes.

"Ciaran, I'm not criticizing you for not telling her." She said softly. "It's just... This isn't something that you can put aside. You HAVE to tell her at some point. Nonette too."

"It's only right." Darlton said, adding his own baritone agreement to the mix.

In front of her, the Princess saw Ciaran nod his head before blinking away the built-up tears.

"But how am I going to do that?" He asked. "I mean, it's not like I can just take them aside and go: 'Dorothea, Nonette, I love you both, but I have to tell you: I'm from an alternate world where the Britannian Empire doesn't exist, and I should be working in a restaurant as a dishwasher right now', now can I?"

A small titter of amusement left Cornelia's throat at his very simplified explanation of the facts. "Yes, I can't really see that going down too well." She gave the young man a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "But in all honesty, you need to tell them, and sooner rather than later. And if you ever get scared about telling them, then just ask us to come with you."

Putting a hand to his head, the Briton let out a loud sigh, a sad smile at his face. "I know you will. But it's just... when will I know it to be right time? Or what if I do get sent back to my world, or God forbid killed? Then what do I do?"

Cornelia looked up at Darlton as they took in what Ciaran had just said.

Reaching forward, the scarred general put a large hand on top of the shorter man's head of hair before ruffling it slightly.

"Don't worry about too much," Darlton said soothingly, a genial smile on his face. "We'll deal with that later. But right now, we need to talk about something else: you ARE dating someone older than you AND in a higher rank than you."

"Oh balls..." Ciaran murmured out in fright.

"Hey, I'm not angry." The general said, taking both Cornelia and Ciaran by surprise. "I'll be honest, as a red-blooded male, I'm quite impressed."

"Andreas!" The Princess said out-loud in shock, completely taken aback that her top general, one of her best friends, would take in such a carefree manner. She knew he could be a bit carefree about things, yes, but that was pushing it.

In his defence, Darlton put up his hands, taking his left one off of the young man's head. "Now do remember, Princess, that I was a young man once myself, and that getting a woman such as Dorothea can definitely be seen as an impressive act."

The young man was silent for a few seconds before Ciaran smiled. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," The general said. "And, to be perfectly honest, I kind of had my suspicions on what was going on between you two. This just confirms it."

At the comment, Ciaran's face went several shades of red in an instant in shock. "Wha- how? When?"

This news took Cornelia by surprise too, as she had been wholly in the dark almost like everyone else had. Or at least, she thought so. "Yes, Andreas. When did you start having your suspicions?"

Crossin his arms over his chest, Darlton replied. "Well, I saw that Dorothea was acting odd around Ciaran after Kitakyushu, but it was really when she agreed to be the one to accompany Princess Euphemia to rendezvous with Zero at the docks to get him back after Narita. I had only ever known her once to jump to a task like that so quickly, and that was when she was an officer cadet.

"I'll be honest, the thing that clinched it for me was when I confronted her on it. Her answer was simply that she didn't know. And that's when I knew." Turning his head slightly, the tall, scarred general gave a sideways glance in the direction of the purple-haired princess. "Because that was the same answer I got the last time I asked that question."

This time, it was Cornelia's face that went several shades of red quickly before she closed her eyes and looked away from the pair. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Wai-wait?" She heard Ciaran asked. "What's going on?"

"Come on, lad. Don't tell me you haven't guessed it already. With Cornelia and a certain nobleman?" Darlton asked in return.

Opening her right eye a tad, the Second Princess saw the young man staring at her in wide-eyed shock. "You mean... you and Guilford...?"

"Bloody hell, Ciaran." She groaned out in annoyance as she turned to look at him. "Wasn't it that obvious? I mean, Guilford and I spend a lot of time together."

In reply, the Briton just shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly? It just never clicked."

Cornelia just looked at him blankly before, accompanied by a smile cracking on her face, she began chuckling. "How did you ever find out that Dorothea was in love with you?"

"She told me." Ciaran said with an earnest shrug and a smile of his own. "So... how did he get around it?"

"Who get around what?"

"Guilford, being in a relationship with someone of a high social status." The young man replied.

Taking a short breath, Cornelia cast her mind back on to when she had first entered in to her relationship with Guilford.

"I think that me being a Royal might colour this slightly," She said in a sad tone of voice. "But you learn to keep it close. In public, we had to maintain the cold but professional distance we were known for, as you will be too, so the only time that you two will be able to enjoy each other's affection is if you're with us, or by yourselves."

Ciaran nodded his head as he took in what he was told. "So it's basically what I imagined it would be then."

The two adult Britannians nodded in agreement. It really was no way to have a relationship. And if the pair had to split, then that would make it harder for them and the burgeoning relationship.

A sudden idea clicked in to Cornelia's brain, made even more real as she clicked her fingers together. "Although, if you two were to stay in a place where your relationship was known and readily accepted by people you knew and trusted, you wouldn't have to hide it."

Darlton gave her a sceptical look. "Cornelia, what are you getting at?"

"I'm not getting at anything, Andreas." The Princess replied, using the general's given name to highlight the seriousness of her plan. "I'm just thinking; we are in a dangerous situation here in Area 11, and the inclusion of a Knight of the Round in our order of battle would be a definite boon to us."

The two males simply looked at her as they processed what she had just said before the realization dawned on their faces.

"Princess, are you really suggesting what I think you're-" Ciaran began before the older woman cut him off.

"I'm not suggesting anything, Ciaran." Cornelia said, holding a hand up to stop the younger man from continuing. "I'm saying it outright: I'm going to petition my father to have him station Lady Ernst in Area 11 to help fight the Black Knights and then help sort out the resulting mess."

And to let Dorothea and Ciaran have as normal a relationship as possible, was the unsaid part of her plan, and both men knew it.

A warm smile crept across the captain's face as he fully processed Cornelia's plan. "Your... Your Highness, you... I'll never be able to pay you back for what you've done for me."

A small smile of her own came to the Second Princess' face. "Ciaran, you don't have to pay me back for anything. I just want you to live as a happy a life as you can."

That did nothing to abate the smile on Ciaran's face. Inside her, a part of Cornelia's body screamed at her; _'Hug him!'_ Feeling her arms move up, she took a step forward, moving to embrace the young man.

The sound of the door handle being depressed and clicking open made the princess stop dead in her tracks before Guilford stuck his head through the gap.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important, My Lady," The bespectacled Knight said in a slightly snarky tone, "But we were wondering whether or not you were going to return the young man to his lover."

In the hallway, the trio simply shook their heads at the comment, although it did annoy Cornelia slightly that their conversation had gone on a bit longer than they had hoped but it had to be said.

"Yes, Guilford," She said turning around and walking past her Knight and lover. "We're coming now."

Walking through the door, Cornelia saw the two other woman and Euphemia still standing where she left them, although from the looks of it, it seemed that Nonette had managed to embarrass both her sister and Dorothea again.

"Sorry that took so long." The Second Princess said, drawing closer to them. "But I had to talk to Ciaran about a few things pertaining to your relationship that were quite important."

Turning quickly, an uncharacteristic look of fright on her face, Dorothea looked at Cornelia. "Your Highness, I swear: there is nothing improper going on between me an-"

"Dorothea, please." The purple-haired princess said, interrupting anything that the Knight of Four was saying. "While I will admit that I had a small misgiving about your relationship, I cannot deny that what you and Ciaran share is the beginnings of a proper relationship."

From the corner of her sight, Cornelia saw the young man in question step past her and move to stand beside his lover, but she continued what she was saying, especially since both needed to hear it.

"I know that in Britannia, your relationship will very likely draw many questions, and few good ones too, but I want you both to know that... I fully support your relationship."

The expressions on Ciaran's and Dorothea's faces couldn't have looked more relieved, even more so when he wrapped an arm around her and pulled the umber-skinned woman in to a sideways hug. It made the princess' heart warm up slightly at the display of joy as the single hug became a full hug between the two.

She didn't want to ruin the happy atmosphere, but the next part had to be said.

"And, since I support your relationship, and I know that everyone else here does too," She looked around at the various nods of agreement from the other people as the pair of lovers turned to look at the princess. "So... I'll petition my father to allow Dorothea to remain here in Area 11 for the foreseeable future, and we'll see how it goes from there."

The gasp that came from the assembled group could have almost sucked out all of the air in the room, although the noise was almost deafening, as was the exclamations of joy from Euphemia, Nonette and the two lovers. Cornelia knew that they wouldn't express it loudly, but she knew that Darlton and Guilford were wearing their expressions on their face with glee.

Ciaran opened his mouth to speak. "Cornelia, I- Oh, are you bloody kidding me?!"

The cause of the young man's outburst was the shrill tone of the telephone on Cornelia's desk, indicating that someone was attempting to call her.

"Is it 'National Interrupt Ciaran Day' or something?" He said out loud in annoyance, causing Dorothea and the others to chuckle at his discomfort, even as Cornelia moved towards her desk.

Stepping around it, the princess pressed the speaker button to connect with the caller.

"This had better be important." She quipped, certainly annoyed at being interrupted.

"Uh, Your Majesty," The slightly frightened voice of one of the Palace's phone operators came through for everyone to hear. "We have a message from Lord Bismarck. He says it's a Priority Two message. Shall-shall I patch him through, Your Majesty?"

The noise level dropped precipitously as all heard the name mentioned, although only one person was confused by the turn of events.

"Uhh... Lord Bismarck?" Ciaran asked quietly in confusion.

"The Knight of One," Darlton answered, keeping his voice quite low to avoid being heard by the person on the other end of the phone. "The leader of the Knights of the Round."

"And technically, our boss." Nonette added, sounding more subdued than normal.

"How is Lord Bismarck trying to contact us?" Cornelia asked to the operator.

"Through video message. We're ready to patch it through to your office when you're ready, My Lady." The operator replied, causing Cornelia to quietly let out a sigh.

"Okay, I'll set it up." She said before she clicked off the phone before she put a hand to rest against the top of her desk, her face an expressionless mask. "This cannot be good."

That was an understatement and a half by far. While it was true that her father very rarely contacted his own children directly, it was also true that any information or important topics of discussion would reach their desired destination via either Schneizel or one of the Emperor's other ministers. But to be contacted by the Knight of One...

"It's probably me again." Nonette said unprompted, sighing gently as she spoke. "I bet it has to do with Marshal Stirner's report."

Cornelia nodded her head as she closed her eyes. Everyone in this room, apart from the two Knights of the Round present, knew that Ciaran wasn't from this world (which was still a weird phrase for her to say, she admitted to herself) and that was how she intended to keep that secret. Until the time was right for Dorothea and Nonette to be told at least.

"Shall I set the video-link up, Your Highness?" Guilford asked, to which the Princess only replied with a simple nod of her head, not bothering to open her eyes as she heard her Knight move behind her. The sounds of the man opening a concealed panel in the wall behind her before pressing a button made her turn around as a large portion of the wall behind her desk slid upwards, revealing a large television-esque screen, about four feet in length and three feet in height, built in to the wall.

"Everyone ready?" She asked, turning her head slightly to look at everyone behind her as they moved in to a place relative to their rank: Darlton moved to stand on one side of the desk, while Euphemia came to stand next to her older sister. Reluctantly, Ciaran took a few steps back from where he stood next to Dorothea, an act that further cemented the fact that, while they were together around others that didn't know about them, they'd have to stand apart. To her credit though, the Knight of Four put up a stoic mask as Nonette moved beside her behind the desk, but the Princess saw that she didn't like the move any more than her lover did. This just left Ciaran alone a few paces in the back of the group.

She couldn't help the sad look that scrunched up her face as she saw the young Briton left behind from everyone else. She had seen Guilford do it so many times and that hurt her heart too much. But she couldn't imagine how it must feel for him.

The small smile that Ciaran shot her as an attempt at reassurance did little to help, but she pushed that aside. She had to deal with this first.

"Guilford, set it up." Cornelia said, prompting her Knight to step closer to the screen and type a small sequence of numbers in to a touch-pad built in to the screen before he moved to stand the other side of the desk.

For a few seconds, a small 'call waiting' icon filled the blank screen, before another icon, this time showing 'call connecting' appeared. This all probably lasted for around ten seconds before the formerly blank screen was replaced by the image that no-one in the upper echelons of the Britannian Empire wanted to see.

Lord Bismarck Waldstein, the Lord Knight of One, First Sword and head of the Emperor's personal Royal Guard, looked all the more imposing on the large screen. His tall, square shaped head, his dark tanned skin and long black hair filled the middle of the screen, his white and gold Knight of Round uniform just poking out from the lower edge of the screen. From the looks of the room behind him, the man had to be in his own personal office.

For a few quiet heartbeats, his single blue eye staring at the people on the other side of the screen, which was a lot less unnerving than his sewn up eye staring at them, Cornelia had to admit. However, the intense stare vanished and was replaced by a kind, sincere smile.

"Princess Cornelia," The Knight of One said, bowing his head slightly. "I'm glad to see you in good health."

Cornelia couldn't help but return the smile. While she had grown up with Lady Marianne as her idol, she couldn't deny that she had given some hero-worship to Lord Bismarck too. He wasn't the Knight of One for nothing.

"About as well as I can be considering that we're in the middle of fighting an insurgency here in Area 11." She said warmly before she went down to business. "But I have to ask: why am I being contacted? Have I done something to... displease my father?"

"Oh. My apologies for any confusion, Your Highness." Bismarck replied in a sincere apology. "I did not contact you to speak to you, I'm afraid, although I do find our talks stimulating. No, I contacted your offices today to talk to Lady Nonette and Lady Dorothea."

"Huh. You were right, Nonette." Ciaran said from behind her in what he must have thought was a low voice, but the head on the screen turned to look at the young man behind them.

"So this must be Captain Forsyth." Bismarck noted, not sounding all too surprised by who he was talking to.

"Uh... yes, My Lord." Came the stammered and sheepish reply. "That's... uh... that's me."

"How are your injuries healing?" The Knight of One asked, speaking in a genial tone that Cornelia knew was not faked.

"Uh, good. I'm healing well, My Lord. Although I'm certain it would have been worse if Lady Nonette hadn't saved me."

"I don't doubt that, but I am glad to hear. From what I read about you from Provost Marshal Stirner's report, you seem like a young man I plan to keep my eye on in the future." The older man said before he moved his attention to the two women in front of Ciaran. "Which brings me back to my purpose for calling."

Even though the pair were still dressed in their civilian outfits, the two Knights of the Round stood to attention as they prepared for what was to come.

"The Emperor feels that the two of you have spent too much time already in Area 11, especially considering that Britannia is close to re-initiating hostilities with the European Union. As such, he is ordering all Knights of the Round not in country to return to the Homeland."

Cornelia did not need to look around her to know that the look of shock on her face was mirrored by the others in the room.

"Re-return to the Homeland?" Dorothea asked in shock.

"What the hell?" Nonette cried out. "This is bull-"

"Language, Lady Nonette." Bismarck interrupted, his stern voice raising only slightly in pitch to stop the champagne-haired Knight from speaking. "While I can understand that you two are annoyed by the decision, and I do understand that, truly, you must not forget that you are both Knights of the Round. As such, you are both sworn to carry out the Emperor's orders, whatever they may be."

Turning to look at the two women, Cornelia saw both of them hang their heads slightly in resignation. Behind them, she saw Ciaran looking quietly distraught, the same look mirrored on Euphemia's face.

It seemed that the Lord Knight of One must have picked up on those expressions as he let out a weary sigh.

"It is not fair, I understand." He said softly to Nonette and Dorothea, although the Second Princess was certain he was addressing it to everyone. "To be forced away from your friends at a time when you have been enjoying yourself. And I do not doubt that the Princess would have found a use for you in Area 11. But I'm afraid that this is how things must be."

To her credit, it was the Knight of Nine who recovered first, lifting her head to look up at her superior.

"When do you want us to leave, My Lord?"

"The Emperor said as soon as you got this message," Bismarck replied flatly before a small smile lifted up the sides of his mouth. "But I have no qualms with you two leaving tomorrow morning. It'll give you two time to say good bye to everyone properly."

' _A small mercy from the executioner.'_ Cornelia thought to herself as she saw the two women nod, Dorothea still keeping her head looking down at the floor. Turning back, she looked at the screen.

"Will there be anything else, Lord Bismarck."

A shake of his head. "No, that is all, Your Highness. Good day to you."

"And a good evening to your, My Lord." Cornelia replied, remembering what the time difference was in the Homeland.

With that concluded, the screen blinked out, becoming black again. The only things seen on it's screen were the reflections of the people in the room.

"Guilford? Close the screen, please." Cornelia asked, not in the mood to give an order after all of the positive energy had been sucked from the room.

Turning around, the Princess' mood fell even more as she saw that Dorothea still had her head down, only this time she could see her shoulder bobbing up and down as a hand came up to her mouth.

"Oh, love. Come on." Ciaran said in sympathy, quickly stepping forward to put his hands on his lover's shoulders as she continued crying. Spinning quickly, the umber-skinned woman pressed her body full against his, prompting the young man to wrap his arms around her in an attempt at a soothing hug.

"It's not fair." Cornelia heard Dorothea sob out softly as she buried her face in to the Briton's shoulder. "It was all going so right, and now this..."

"I'm sorry, Dorothea." The Princess said softly, meaning every word of it. "I truly am. But I can't countermine my father's orders."

The Knight of Four nodded her head in understanding, although Cornelia could see that it did little if anything to stop her tears. Although Ciaran didn't have to as, removing one of his hands from her shoulder, he gently cupped her chin to bring her face to face with him before, not saying a word, he gently pressed his lips to her left cheek and then her right.

That definitely did the trick as her tears slowed, but the forlorn look stayed on Dorothea's face.

Moving forward, Cornelia put a soothing hand on to the Knight's back as she spoke up again. "At least you two have until the morning. So I guess that's a small comfort."

Ciaran nodded his head as he placed it against the side of Dorothea's. "I suppose."

"Hey!" Nonette suddenly, and loudly, said from the side, making everyone flinch. "Let's have a party. A going away party!"

"Nonette, I'm not in the mood..." Dorothea mumbled out, closing her eyes in resignation before they shot back open as the Knight of Nine wrapped her arms around both her and her love. "Nonette!"

"Oh, hush." The champagne-haired woman responded, a broad smile on her face. "Look at this from another perspective, Dorothea: you are now in a relationship with the man you love. That's got to count for something, right?"

Bringing a hand to wipe the tears out of her eyes, the Knight of Four nodded as a smile started forming on her face. "Yes. Yes it does." She said happily.

"So let's celebrate!" Nonette yelled out again, making both lovers flinch from the volume and proximity of her voice. "A party to celebrate the end of our staying here while, at the same time, a party to celebrate Dorothea and Ciaran getting together. It'll be awesome!"

"A party doesn't sound that bad, actually." Cornelia said, thinking it over. She could do with a bit of winding down after last night, and earlier today, and an hour or so of good food and drink would certainly help do that.

"Yay!" Euphemia cried out in joy, before she turned and ran to the door. "I'll contact the cooks and tell them to get it started. Does six sound okay?"

Everyone replied 'yes' just as the young Princess opened the door and quickly sped away, causing her older sister to titter slightly.

"She could have just used the phone." Cornelia stated simply, earning a chuckle from everyone. "Okay, let's all get ready for the party. If you want to invite anyone, it's okay with me."

"If it's all right with you, Cornelia," Ciaran said, his arm still around Dorothea, drawing the Princess' attention. "I'd like to keep this between us, if you don't mind."

Cornelia nodded her head in understanding, smiling softly. "No problem. Now, run along you two. Go and freshen up. You have a party to prepare for."

"In four hours?" The young man asked, confusion plain on his face. It took a raised eyebrow from the Princess to get him to understand her meaning. "Oooh. Gotcha. Come on, Dorothea."

Nodding her head, the Knight of Four let herself be lead away from the four Britannians before she stopped at the door. Turning around, she looked squarely at Cornelia and, without preamble, bowed to the Princess.

"Thank you, Princess. I can't say how much this means to me."

For a few moments, Cornelia was silent before a broad smile came to her face.

"Go and enjoy yourselves, you two." She simply said, nodding towards the pair. "But make sure you dress nicely for the party."

Without saying another word, Dorothea stepped back out of the open door before her partner moved to close the door. As his head was in the gap of the open door, Ciaran shot a thankful in Cornelia's direction before he shut the door behind them.

In the large expanse of her office, the Third Princess let out a quiet sigh of breath as she moved back towards her desk. Instead of moving behind it however, she stopped at the front of it and spun around before resting herself against it.

"Gilbert." She said to her Knight and lover, prompting him over to her with a movement of her finger.

"My Lady?" He asked as he walked towards her.

When he was in striking distance, Cornelia reached a hand out and drew him the last few inches towards her as she pressed a quick but heartfelt kiss to his lips. As she disengaged, the Princess couldn't help but smile as the look of shock on her Knight's face before it morphed in to a contented smile.

"Thank you, Cornelia." Guilford said warmly as he moved to rest beside his lover. "It's nice not being the only couple here, isn't it?"

Cornelia hummed in reply as she moved her head to rest against his shoulder. "Just a bit."

Out of the corner of her right eye, the Princess saw a slightly miffed Darlton standing beside a very pissed off Nonette.

"Well, nothing is stopping you two." Cornelia pointed out to the pair, shrugging her shoulders from her position against Guilford.

For a few moments, the Knight of Nine just stared at the Princess before she turned to look up at Darlton with a hopeful expression.

"It didn't work before, it's not going to work now." The scarred general said before he turned and headed to the exit of the room.

* * *

The Going Away/Getting In To A Relationship party (as Nonette cheerfully called it) was much more of a subdued affair than Ciaran, dressed in his Royal Guard uniform, would have expected. Yes, there was food, drink and music present. But instead of it taking place in the main dining room as had happened with his 'anniversary' celebrations, it took place in one of the smaller rooms in a quiet corner of the palace. Casting his gaze over the room from his seat on one of the lounge chairs, the Briton took in all of the details; a fairly large round table upon which rested a variety of food and sweet treats, another table to the side with a variety of soft and alcoholic drinks sat on it while a small music player sat in the corner of the room on a small cabinet which made no attempt to fight with the volume of the people speaking in the room.

Leaning back in his seat slightly, a smile graced Ciaran's lips as he took a sip from his glass of rum and cola. This was how a party was supposed to be for him: no need to fight to be heard over the music when talking to people, the drinks were actually nice.

It was definitely his kind of party.

A soft impact on his thigh drew his attention as, looking down, Ciaran saw a foot clad in a black, high-heeled boot that ran up to the calf of Dorothea Ernst. To his right, his girlfriend was lounging on the other side of the chair, sipping on a tall glass of lemonade, one leg over the side of the chair while the other was on her lovers leg.

"What you thinking about?" She asked, smiling sweetly at him.

"Just that this is a nice party." He replied, nodding his head slightly. "Euphemia did a good job with this."

"Thank you!" The girl in question called out, holding her own glass high above her head, making the two people on the chair laugh in response.

Putting his hand on to the top of Dorothea's leg, Ciaran lazily let his hand run up and down the front of her calf. He knew that neither person could directly feel each other through the leather of her boot, but the young man was certain that he felt his lover shiver slightly from his touch.

Before he had a proper chance to enjoy it, a sharp and painful impact on the side of his head made him stop the act as he cried out in pain.

"Hey?"

To his side, Darlton stood looking down at him, a drink in his hand and a stern look on his face.

"Don't you think it's a little bit early in your relationship to be doing that, young man?" He asked.

Turning to look at his right, Ciaran looked at Dorothea, who merely shrugged in reply.

"I'm sure you know that I treat Dorothea as my own daughter when I'm allowed," The general continued as he began leaning down, quickly filling the young man's personal bubble. "So you should probably listen to what I have to say."

Ciaran couldn't help but swallow slightly in fear as Darlton drew his face closer to his.

"I think that I can say this with some real certainty that..." He stopped mid-sentence as he used his finger to beckon Ciaran closer, which he reluctantly did, bringing his left ear level with Darlton's mouth as the older man whispered. "If you're going to do that, it's best to do it in one of your rooms."

The young man's eyes opened in surprise at the general's words, even more so at the smile that graced his lisp. Turning his head, he saw that everyone was looking at the two of them expectantly.

"Uh... it's a bit rude, isn't it?" Ciaran asked. "I mean, you went through all of this effort-"

"Hey, relax!" Nonette called out, having changed in to her own Knight of the Round uniform, a glass of champagne held in her hand. "This party is for both of us, so it's all right if one of us is here, right?"

The others nodded their heads in agreement, signalling they were okay with the pair leaving early.

Carefully moving her foot off of Ciaran so he didn't spill his drink, Dorothea stood up from the chair, putting her drink on a side table before turning around and holding out her hand for her lover to take.

Handing his drink off to Darlton as he stood up, the young man brushed down his uniform before he took the offered hand and was led out of the room, not before waving a goodbye to everyone.

Not relinquishing her grip on his hand, Dorothea pulled Ciaran along the winding paths that lead from the party room to one of their bedrooms. They hadn't travelled far before the young man stopped dead, nearly causing Dorothea's hand to slip from his before she stopped too.

"What's wrong?" The Knight of Four asked, turning to look at the man behind her.

"You're acting... quite forward tonight." Ciaran stated, looking at his lover quizzically. "Is something wrong?"

This brought a blush to Dorothea's cheeks as she averted her eyes from him. "If I tell you, would you think less of me?" She asked.

It took all of a second for Ciaran to decide to shake his head. "Not likely."

This made Dorothea turn to face him directly, although she quickly shifted her vision to look down at a button on his jacket.

"You've not been spending a lot of time with me recently." She said softly, reaching a hand up to gently fiddle with the button she was focused on. "I know that you had the battalion to train and you had to deal with... with Kallen, and Cornelia too. And I'm okay with that. It's just..."

"Just?" Ciaran repeated, keeping his voice soft.

"It's just that as soon as I manage to get a chance to really spend some time with you, we get ripped away from each other." She shook her head gently as a sad smile came to her face. "I just... I just want some time with you, that's all."

'Ah.' Ciaran said to himself in his head as he realised what Dorothea was talking about. "You just want me to yourself for a while and you think you're being selfish, right?"

Nodding her head, his umber-skinned lover lifted her gaze to look directly at him. "I told you'd think less of me."

A small chuckle came to the young man's throat as he gently lent forward and pressed a kiss on to the tip of Dorothea's nose before he wrapped his arms around her in a hug.

"Dorothea, if I had all of the time in the world, I'd gladly spend it with you." He said warmly as he squeezed their bodies together softly. "I think that we're allowed to act a bit selfishly now and again."

That did the trick, as Ciaran felt and heard Dorothea let out a happy sigh before she nuzzled the side of her head against his. Moving back from the hug though, the Briton saw that a blush was still on his lover's cheeks.

"Okay, now what's up?" He asked.

"Umm... Can I do two more selfish things tonight?" Dorothea asked, warily in reply.

Closing his eyes, Ciaran chuckled again before he replied. "What is it?"

His eyes opened quickly as he felt Dorothea put a finger to his chest before she drew a small circle in the fabric before she looked at his face directly. "Stay with me, until the morning. Just me and you, together for the night. We can watch television, read a book, it doesn't matter, just as long as we're together."

A nod his head came in reply. "Aye. I can do that. And the second thing?"

This time, the blush on Dorothea's face deepened as she prepared herself for what she was about to say, but even when she did, she mumbled it out so quickly, it was amazing that Ciaran even caught it at all.

"...carryme..."

"Carry you?" Ciaran asked, surprised by what he had just heard.

"Forget it!" The Knight of Four called out, turning quickly and continuing her walk to her room. "It was a stupid idea. Let's just go to your room and get ready for the night. I know that Jimmy Fallon is on ton-hey!"

While Dorothea was saying all of this, a mischievous smile on his face, the Briton quickly sneaked up behind her. Moving quickly to match his pace with hers, he struck. Putting both his arms at the right side of her body, his right arm at waist height and his left at knee height, he swept them to the side, picking Dorothea up in a bridal carry, which did nothing to lessen the blush on his lover's face.

"So how long have you had this fantasy?" He asked as he made his way down the corridor, jostling Dorothea's body slightly to keep her body close to his to stop her from falling.

"... since I was a little girl." The umber-skinned Knight admitted after a few seconds of silence, quickly settling in to the position she was in, resting her head against his shoulder. "I remember watching those old black and white movies with Errol Flynn in them, where he would carry the main damsel in this way-" She swung her feet lightly to reinforce her point. "- and I just thought to myself: 'I'd like that'."

Ciaran nodded in understanding as he carried her down the corridor. The bridal carry was, he always thought, an incredibly romantic gesture. It said probably the most important message for a relationship in such a simple but literal way; "I've got you, and I won't let you down."

"So where can I drop you off, love?" The young man asked, putting on a bad Cockney accent which worked well at making Dorothea laugh.

"My room will be fine." She replied between small giggling fits.

With his destination set, Ciaran made the relatively short journey from they were to the older woman's room was, letting her slide off of his arms to stand in front of the door.

"I won't be long." Dorothea said as she opened the door. "I packed virtually all of my things earlier so I'll just get changed in to my pyjamas and meet you back at your room. Okay?"

Ciaran nodded his head in understanding as he turned to head back to his own room, making sure that his lover's door was closed before he performed a little hop of joy before he entered in to his bedroom. Moving quickly, he performed his routine for preparing for the night; give his teeth a brush, changed in to a pair of pyjama bottoms and a plain white t-shirt before climbing in to bed and he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Pushing himself to sit fully upright, Ciaran looked at the door questioningly before turning to look at the clock beside him.

6:15 had turned in to 6:25.

It shouldn't have taken ten minutes for Dorothea to get changed in to her pyjamas.

Moving out of his bed, the young man quickly padded over to the door, leaving his slippers where they were, as he decided to investigate what was keeping Dorothea. A few images of fairly irrational fears rushed through his head as he headed towards the exit (he seriously had no idea where the image of her falling through the floor came from), but that didn't stop him as he opened the door a bit too quickly.

On the other side of the door, his lover gave a small cry of shock which made Ciaran stop short of butting his head against hers. Forcing himself to stand still, the young man gave Dorothea a quick look over: she was wearing the same pair of blue and white pyjamas she had worn the first night they had slept together, while in her hands, she carried what looked like a small duffel back. Her hair was once again out of it's braid and was flowing down past her shoulders, while a blush once more tinged her cheeks a dark shade of red.

"Sorry for the wait." She said sheepishly before she held up the bag. "I... may have gotten a bit carried away with getting stuff ready for tonight. You don't mind me having a shower here in the morning, do you?"

Looking at him like she was, Dorothea could have asked him; "Can you burn your whole room down?" and he'd do it. Not saying a word, he simply stepped aside, letting her in to the room, before closing the door softly behind her.

Once inside the room, and having deposited her duffel bag softly near the foot of the bed, the pair began their evening together. After a quick bit of fiddling, the young man found where the television in his bedroom was located, surprisingly enough, in a large cabinet that sat directly across from the couch in the room. Decided to save time early, the main light was switched off while the bedside lamp gave the necessary light to see where they were going and what they were doing with the remote.

At first, the pair had sat straight up next to each other on the couch as Dorothea switched on the television before they both leant back in to the back of the seat, moving to cuddle next to each other. This then turned in to Ciaran lying down on the couch with a cushion as a pillow while the Knight of Four lay on top of him with her head on his chest as they watched a variety of shows, mainly a mix of early evening comedy shows (plus one that seemed to be very much like Only Fools and Horses) before the programmes switched to a late night talk show.

In his world, he'd only ever really watched a few of them, mainly Jonathan Ross. But this guy was close enough to be the same: not really someone who you could pick out of a crowd in terms of looks but when he told jokes, then you couldn't help but join in the laughter.

The guy prattled on at length about Britannian politics (someone called Guinevere was getting repeated mentions and a lot of hoots from male audience members), but then his jokes switched to what was going on in Area 11, and all of the humour stopped being funny very quickly.

He thought that he could handle the jokes, but the host then made a joke about the battle at Narita and likening it to a mud-bath for the Princesses, and that's all it took for Ciaran to begin to feel his blood begin to boil. Moving quicker than he thought capable of moving, his hand shot out and snatched the remote from it's spot on the couch in front of them before he mashed the mute button, sending the room in to silence as he closed his eyes to contain the anger.

The feeling of Dorothea gently pulling the remote from his hand as she moved from resting against his body to holding herself up with one hand made him open his eyes, as she used the remote to switch the television off completely. All the while, a sympathetic and understanding look was on her face.

"Let's go to bed." She said simply before she moved off of the couch, carefully climbing over the young man's body to avoid giving him any sort of injury before she padded over to the bed.

Taking a few calming breaths, Ciaran put the remote down before he pushed himself up from his seat and headed towards the bed. At that moment, he hated himself. He let himself get angry on probably the most trivial thing (' _Seriously? Who even thinks that talk show hosts are experts in politics anyway?_ ' He asked himself) and it had ruined the whole atmosphere of the evening.

' _Proper quality boyfriend material you are, mate,_ ' He sarcastically said in his head as he stopped beside the bed, looking down at Dorothea as she sat on the bed.

"I'm sorry, Dorothea." He said earnestly. "That was... I shouldn't have gotten angry at what that guy said, I know, but it's just-"

"Ciaran, stop." The Knight of Four said softly, leaning forward in the bed to gently take a hold of one of his hands before she moved to kneel in front of him on the bed. "You don't have to apologise. I know how loyal you are to Cornelia and Euphemia. Besides, that man was never really funny to begin with."

Her words brought a smile to Ciaran's face, as he moved forward to give his girlfriend a kiss, which she lovingly returned for a few seconds before she pulled back.

"Now, come on." She said, shifting her hands to gently hold on to the young man's biceps. "Come to bed. I've still got you for the whole night."

Moving her legs out from behind her, Dorothea suddenly pitched backwards, dragging Ciaran along with her down on to the bed, earning a surprised yelp from him before he began chuckling heartily while he rolled to the side to avoid crushing her.

"Jesus, Dorothea," The young man said in surprise. "And you say Nonette's rubbing off on me?"

At the mention of the Knight of Nine's name, the umber-skinned woman bit her bottom lip as she averted her gaze. That earned a frown from the young man as he reached a hand over and gently cupped her face with his fingers before he turned it to so she was looking at him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, concern in his voice. "Do you think that I want you to be more like her?"

Dorothea shrugged. "You've spent a lot of time with her, so I'd have thought-"

"It has not really been because of my own choice." Ciaran countered. "Besides, Nonette's not really the type of woman I see myself with."

"Really?" Dorothea asked in shock. "But you've seen her b- her breasts."

The Briton arced an eyebrow at that comment. "I bet you've seen her breasts more than I have."

For a moment, a contemplative look came to the older woman's face before she shrugged her shoulders. "Fair point. But still... should I be worried?"

Ciaran shook his head a split second after the words left her mouth. "No. Not at all. I chose you, didn't I?"

Dorothea nodded her head, but from the look in her eyes, she didn't look fully satisfied with the answer. The young man let out a small huff from his nose as he thought on what he should do. He knew that words wouldn't do anything for her. So he had to actually do something.

Raising himself to his knees, Ciaran gripped the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled it up over his head before tossing it over the side of the bed, leaving him entirely naked from the waist up and his chest completely bare for Dorothea to see. A cocksure smile was on his face for a few seconds before he realised exactly what he had done as his smile took on a more sheepishly quality and a blush coloured his cheeks and he moved his arms forward slightly to cover his body.

Beneath him, Dorothea looked him, mouth agape in shock before she began laughing hysterically.

"Oh, my God! Ciaran. What was that?"

The young man shrugged in reply. "I... am not really sure myself. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Still laughing, the woman reached a hand up and pressed it against his stomach. "But it's just... you're so hairy!"

And it was true. From his chest downwards to his hips, it was like someone had shaved a bear and stuck it on to his body, as he was covered in what could only be described as a matt of dark-brown-bordering-on-black hair.

From her position on the bed, the Knight of Four continued laughing before it quickly petered out before, sighing, she put a hand forward and placed it on to his sternum. The contact made the young man move his arms aside and jolt upright slightly.

"You really are the hairiest lover I've ever had." She stated, a smile on her face as she ran her hand soothingly over his sternum and chest. Whether Dorothea felt the goosebumps forming under her hands, she didn't give any hint. Quickly, her happy smile shifted to a forlorn look before she spoke again. "I still can't get over the fact that I have to leave you tomorrow."

The young man nodded his head in sympathy. It was unfair. Reaching down, he gently took the hand off of his chest before he moved to lay down beside her. "Still: at least we get tonight."

A smile came to Dorothea's lips as she moved to rest her head on Ciaran's chest again, bringing her other hand up to run through the hairs on his chest. "Besides, we've still got the video-links, so we can chat whenever we like."

"That's true." He nodded his head before he turned to look at his lover as she continued speaking.

"Besides, if your doctrine really does prove as successful as we all think it will be, then, if all goes well and you do manage to beat the Black Knights, you and your regiment can get a transfer to the Homeland." Dorothea said dreamily.

The topic made Ciaran chuckle slightly. "Yeah. I mean, if Cornelia does give me and the Warhounds credit for it, we'll be hailed as heroes. Then no-one can say that we can't have a relationship."

He had meant it as a joke initially, but as he thought over what he had said, he realised that he could do it. It could be done! If he and the Warhounds really did beat the Black Knights and they captured Zero, then what could Cornelia do for him as payment? A promotion? More than definitely.

A knighthood? Now there's a thought. Sir Ciaran Forsyth... it worked. He would be a member of aristocracy and then no-one could really stop him going out with Dorothea officially.

As soon as that thought entered his head however, he immediately began hating himself for even thinking it. That was so selfish of him! That sort of thinking was the exact same sort of thing that got twats like Hasselbach in to their positions in the first place. Looking at the woman beside him, he didn't want to imagine her reaction if he became like that man.

No, if he was going to be with her, he was going to go about it the right way.

"Shall we try and get some sleep?" Dorothea asked, slipping her hand out of his and moving underneath the cover.

Turning over slightly, the Briton looked behind him to look at the clock on the bedside table, reading the time. 22:35

Not the latest time he'd gone to bed at, but it would suffice.

"Yeah, all right."

Leaning over her body, he switched the lamp off before climbing under the covers and nestling up to his lover as the room fell in to darkness. Waiting a few moments, Ciaran let his eyes adjust to the low-level of light. As his night vision came in to play, he could see Dorothea looking at him.

Smiling sweetly, he leaned forward, tilting his head up to kiss her forehead before moving down to kiss her nose and then her lip. Soon, the pair were exchanging kisses in the darkness of the room until they separated.

"I love you." Dorothea said softly.

"I love you too." Ciaran responded.

Moving closer to each other, the pair wrapped their arms around the other as they shifted in to a more comfortable position, with the Knight of Four once more resting her head against her lover's chest. Soon their breathing became more steady as they drifted off in to sleep in each other's arms.

* * *

The sounds of the Knights of the Rounds transport's engine idling filled the air of the Palace's hangar. Looking around him, Ciaran was still surprised by how large it actually was: it had the space for the transport, which had to be the same size as a Hercules transport, along with the six Valkyr gunships and some smaller aircraft that the young man had not been told about.

It was quite impressive, he certainly could not deny that.

Although it was hard to find any consolation in that when the woman he loved and the woman he had come to appreciate as a trusted friend were leaving for God knows how long.

Presently, Ciaran was standing in his official Warhound uniform, to the right of Darlton and Guilford. In front of them, Cornelia and Euphemia stood ready while they stood before the two Knights of the Round. To the side of the group, a small honour-guard of the battalion's senior officers, Villetta and Fick in the same dress as their captain.

All of their stuff had been packed in to their transport and now they just had to say goodbye.

"Well, Nonette," Cornelia began, sounding a lot less professional than when they first arrived. "Once again, you have dropped unannounced in to my life and given a complete shake up."

This earned a small nervous titter from the group, although the Briton didn't really feel the humour as the purple-haired princess continued speaking.

"But, I can say this: it has certainly not been an unpleasant experience."

From his position behind her, Ciaran couldn't see the Princess' facial expression, but the smile on Nonette's face told him that the look on Cornelia's face was an equally happy one before she turned her head to look at the umber-skinned woman next to her.

"Dorothea, it has been a pleasure to spend time with you. I know that with your experience as the Knight of Four, I would have very much liked for you to stay in Area 11. But sadly, life is not always so nice."

Now that definitely made Ciaran's mood drop. And from the looks of it, it affected the Knight of Four's mood too, making her drop her head slightly. Reaching forward, Cornelia put a hand on to her shoulder which caused Dorothea to lift her head up.

"Yet, I trust that your role as Knight of the Round will see you back here again. Or if you decided to continue hanging out with Nonette, then you can come back again for a holiday."

That had the effect of making the woman smile and Ciaran couldn't help but notice how it made her face light up. If there was any image of her that he was going to keep in his mind, it would just be that smile.

Moving her arm, Cornelia held her hand out for Dorothea to take, which she did so with all of the poise and finesse of a Knight of the Round. Turning to the champagne-haired woman, the Second Princess was soon encapsulated in another air-crushing hug from Nonette. This time however, Cornelia made no attempt to fight it, instead wrapping her own arms around the other woman, staying connected for a few seconds.

After the pair disconnected, the two Knights began bidding their farewells to the assembled group. Nonette's goodbye hug to Euphemia was a lot more chaste than her greeting, although she did end up planting a big kiss on to the young girl's cheek which caused her to shriek loudly in shock. Thankfully, Dorothea's farewell was a simple handshake and a small hug.

The pair made a point to bid goodbye to Lieutenant's Fick and Villetta, both women giving the pair words of encouragement and promises to meet again, while Dorothea gave the latter a few extra words that Ciaran couldn't hear but it seemed to bring a warm smile to the silver-haired woman.

Then, it came to the three senior officers. The women approached Darlton and Guilford in turn, embracing the pair in a friendly manner, each man giving the women a gentle kiss on the cheeks before exchanging pleasant words of farewell with the two male Britannians.

And then it was Ciaran's turn.

Moving in front of the young man, Nonette let a wry smile as she looked at him.

"Well, I guess this is it." She said, shrugging her shoulders slightly, which made him chuckle.

"Jesus, Nonette. You make it sound like it's the end of the world or something."

The champagne-haired woman nodded her head, staying silent for a few seconds. Taking a step forward, she made the move to embrace Ciaran in a hug, but, suddenly, he held up his hand in front of him, stopping her movement as a look of hurt confusion came to the woman's face.

"I need to do something I should have done a long time ago." He said cryptically, which made the woman even more confused.

Reaching forward, he took a gentle hold of Nonette's right hand before, bowing slightly, he brought it up to his lips, letting him kiss the knuckles of her hand. Looking up, Ciaran saw a large smile form on the woman's face as he let the hand drop and he moved back upright, a smile of his own coming to his face.

"Happy now?" He asked.

"Oh yes." Nonette drawled out happily, before the smile on her face took on a sad quality. "I will miss you though."

Ciaran nodded his head in agreement, a sad smile of his own on his face. "Same here, Nonette."

With that said, it came time for the truly hard part for him as, stepping aside, the Knight of Nine allowed the Knight of Four to step towards the young captain.

"Lady Ernst." He said, bowing his head. It felt so strange of him to use the woman's title, especially not considering the fact that the pair had grown so close together that to even say that they were on first name terms was nowhere near close. But they had to do it for the sake of keeping their relationship a secret.

"Captain Forsyth." Dorothea responded, nodding her head in greeting. The words were said easily enough, but he could see that she wasn't comfortable saying them. "I am... quite sad that I'm not able to see your unit perform it's first action."

Ciaran let out a single chuckle. "I shall personally keep you abreast of our progress, My Lady." ' _And tell you how much I miss you._ ' He said in his head sadly.

The umber-skinned Knight nodded her head, while at her sides, her fingers began fidgeting slightly. "Good, good. That's good to... to hear."

It really hurt Ciaran to have his lover so close to him, especially when she looked so uncomfortable, but not able to do anything to her.

"Well," He forced himself to say, "I hope that you have a pleasant- ah, sod it."

Reaching forward, he brought his arms up and wrapped them around Dorothea as he pulled her in to a tight hug, which she happily returned, wrapping her own arms around him and going full in to the hug. Not caring that people were watching, the young man lifted his lover up and spun her around, her legs trailing behind her, making her laugh giddily before he put her back down.

"Oh, you stay safe over here, okay?" The Knight of Four said, bringing one of her hands up to play with the hair at the the top of her lover's neck, before he nodded. Without another word between them, they pulled each other in to a kiss, Dorothea moving her hand up to rub against the back of his skull.

Completely oblivious to everything around them, the pair stayed connected like that for a few seconds before they disengaged, nuzzling their foreheads against each the other.

"I mean it." Dorothea said softly, letting only Ciaran hear her. "Please stay safe. For me."

"I will, love. I promise." The young man responded, meaning every word of it.

Getting the promise she wanted, the umber-skinned woman pulled back from his head as she let her hands slide down Ciaran's arms until they rested in his hands. Reluctantly, Dorothea let her hands slip from his before she turned around and headed straight for the open door of their transport. It would have looked callous and possibly cruel to anyone else, but they both knew that if she stayed longer, then it would have been even harder for her to walk away from him.

Climbing up the stairs in to the aerial vehicle, Nonette closely behind her, the umber-skinned Knight stood at the top and looked behind, raising her hand in a wave, with the other woman copying her gesture. In reply, the group on the ground waved their own hands to bid the pair goodbye before they climbed in to the transport and the door closed behind them.

Soon, the sounds of the aircraft's engine building up in to a crescendo fully filled the hangar before the vehicle launched itself out of the building and in to the open air of mid-morning. Looking out of the open door of the hangar, Ciaran watched the craft quickly recede in to a dot before vanishing from sight.

When it was gone, the young man let out a weary sigh as he hung his head.

"Something wrong, lad?" Darlton asked from his side, looking at him quizzically.

"I had no idea that just even doing that would hurt as much as it did." Ciaran said quietly, looking up at the scarred general sadly.

This earned a sympathetic chuckle from Darlton and a hand gently placed on to his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

"Well, I'll say this about you, Ciaran," Guilford said moving towards the pair of officers. "When you choose to forego subtlety, you really just go for it."

At the man's words, the young man's head shot up in confusion. Keeping a straight face, the bespectacled Knight pointed his thumb over his shoulder and towards the two officers dressed in the same uniform as Ciaran, a look of amused surprise on Lieutenant Fick's face and a look of slack-jawed confusion on Villetta's.

"... I honestly forgot that they were there." The young man said earnestly before he chuckled once.

Walking past him, Cornelia added her own laugh to noise that the group was generating. "Well, they're your officers, Ciaran. So it's your job to explain what just happened. We'll see you in the meeting room. Don't be too long."

Moving away, the two Princesses and the two officers headed towards the exit, leaving Ciaran in the hangar alone with his two junior officers.

Walking towards them, the young man saw that the looks on their faces had not really shifted, although Villetta had made the choice to at least close her mouth.

"So... I imagine that you want to know what that was about." He said as he drew closer.

"Ciaran, I know you said that you were close with the Knights of the Round," The tawny-skinned woman said, still quite in shock. "But... are you really that close with Dor- Lady Ernst?"

Mentally, the Briton thought over what he should say about what they just saw before, shrugging inside his head, he thought to himself, ' _Eh, what have I got to loose?_ '

"Me and Dorothea are in a relationship." He said simply, looking at both Britannians in turn, almost as if begging them to say anything against it.

Fick was the first one to speak. "... Congratulations, sir. I guess." He said, a little bit unsure of what to say.

"This... Ciaran, this is huge!" Villetta finally getting over her shock and going in to mild concern. "I mean, a Briton and a Knight of the Round? That's-"

"Yes, I know, Villetta." Ciaran cut in, holding up a hand to cut her off. "Everyone that knows about this relationship has said the same thing. Even Dorothea." He let out a sigh before he continued speaking. "It is what it is. I'm glad that I'm in a relationship with such a wonderful woman, and I'm aware of the problems that we'll face. And I'd like to think that we're ready for it."

For a moment, the thought of why he was telling this to Fick and Villetta. They were his subordinate officers, and it may have been a bit too early for him to call them friends, but he had said it, so there was little else he could now.

"Well..." The silver-haired woman began, the look concern on her face falling away to be replaced by a smile. "I think that I can consider Lady Dorothea as a good acquaintance of mine, so I think it's fine for me to say that I support your relationship."

Ciaran couldn't help the smile that came to his face at the older woman's words. Turning his head to look at the blonde-haired lieutenant, he looked a little bit expectantly at the other man, which prompted him to shrug his shoulders.

"I'll say: congratulations, sir. From that display, you two looked like a lovely couple."

The smile on the young man's face broadened widely, although he had no real idea why since he knew that he didn't really need their say on his relationship.

"Why exactly are you smiling like that, sir?" Fick asked, looking at the Briton quizzically.

"I have no idea." Ciaran answered, shrugging his shoulders as he turned around and headed back to the hangar's exit, the two subordinate officers in tow. "Maybe it's just because I feel so happy about being in a relationship that I just kind of want to... show off a bit."

"Show off a secret relationship?" Villetta asked.

"... Okay, fair point." Ciaran replied, nodding his head before the trio entered in to the elevator that lead to the exit. "Anyway. Let's focus here. We're about to face our worst possible enemy."

"And who would that be, Captain?" The tawny-skinned noblewoman asked somewhat dramatically as the three stepped in to the elevator. But with his happy mood, Ciaran decided to play along as he dropped his voice an octave as he replied.

"Politicians."

* * *

 **AN: And that is chapter 27 done! Lord but this took a long time. I would have put this up last night when I uploaded the chapter to the doc manager, but it was quite late when I did so, so I decided against it. Originally, this chapter was going to extend past 30 pages, culminating in a... well, I won't spoil it since it'll be shown in chapter 28, but I'm not really proud of myself for cutting scenes in half to save time. But then I remembered that this isn't an actual anime so I can do whatever I want with this story.**

 **As I have said before, and I'll say it again; writing anything do to with romance is not easy for me to do, but I really think that I am getting closer to getting things down pat for it. Not much else to say on this chapter really.**

 **But a bit of good news as I am now employed! I'm working with my sister in the store she works in in Liverpool, in one of the biggest retail chains in the UK really, so I have money now. But the Department of Work & Pensions, with regards to Universal Credit (everyone in the UK knows what this is, but for non-UK residents, it's the name we give to the money you get from the government when you're unemployed), have their heads collectively up their arses, so I have to deal with that now. But I have money now! Yay!**

 **So, as usual; read, enjoy, review, and please do help with the TvTropes and Wiki page for this story. It would mean a lot and I'd help myself but I have no idea what to do, especially with regards to tropes (the only one I know for sure is Growing The Beard, since the later chapters are of definitely superior quality to the earlier ones).**


	28. Chapter 28

Soldiers know tactics but not strategies, while politicians know strategies but not tactics.

That was one of the oldest military axioms that ever existed. Soldiers on the ground knew the bare-bones picture of how the combat was going, but the politicians only knew the so-called 'big' picture of how the war was going.

Luckily, however, Darlton's rank allowed him to be in the middle ground. He could command men, to hear the reports of the soldiers of the ground and to get information that only a few people could receive and even fewer were able to use.

The flip-side to his rank, however, was that he had to attend these sorts of meetings. Meetings where men who had never been in combat, never lifted a gun or even actually talked to a soldier before tell people like Darlton or even Princess Cornelia how to fight a war.

Currently sitting in one of the meeting rooms in the Viceroy's Palace, the general shared one side of a large horseshoe shaped table with Euphemia and Guilford, while Cornelia sat at the curve of the horseshoe with a half dozen government ministers sat to her right.

"Princess Cornelia," A thin man, probably in his late forties, with very rat like eyes under wire-frame glasses spoke in a very nasal tone. "Because of your Narita operation, the Japanese Liberation Front was nearly wiped out. However, the Provisional Council is concerned that you have not taken the necessary steps to weed out the remnants of the group. Why have you not taken these steps?"

"Would you prefer the simple answer, Minister," The Princess asked in return, her voice level and devoid of emotion. "Or would you like the more complicated answer?"

"Princess Cornelia, we merely-"

The purple-haired woman cut him off. "I'll give you both then. The simple answer is manpower, and the longer answer is that we did not have enough manpower. Does this satisfy you, sir?"

Turning to look at the minister who spoke, the scarred general was surprised to see that man was still stood, or sat, firm in his seat.

"I am aware that our military forces are currently undermanned, Your Highness," Rat-Eyes said, sounding far too much like he was talking to a petulant child. "But, as being the Lord General for all of Britannia's armed forces, you should have known to place the request for more armed forces to be sent to Area 11."

"Minister Fitzwilliam!" Guilford barked, nearly surging up from his seat. "How dare you address the Second Princess in that manner?"

Fitzwilliam put a hand up to silence the Knight, an apologetic look on his face. "I know what I said was rude, Lord Guilford. But it must be stated that the Viceroy is not doing enough to curb these insurgent threats, especially since your military and police forces have sat idle for a full week."

This made Darlton's eyes narrow. "As compared to what you have been doing, Minister." He growled out. "Which is bugger all."

The minister turned to look at the general and attempted to shoot him a scowl, which was very ineffective on a man with eyes like his.

"General Darlton is correct." Cornelia said, turning the focus back on to her. "In comparison to the efforts that I and my staff have undertaken to curb this insurgency, the efforts of the Provisional Council have been ridiculous."

"B-but, Your Highness," A minister that Darlton recognized as Lord Ratzinger stammered out, "Y-your brother, Prince Clovis, forbade us from doing anything to fill in the subway tunnels. He-he spent a great deal of the budget on building the infrastructure of the Settlement. And even when we approached him on the topic, he told us not to interfere with them. He said that any action would simply fuel any insurgencies."

The general let out a weary sigh at the minister's words. He was never one to speak ill of the Royal Family, but it really seemed that all the problems in Area 11 could be traced back to Clovis. It seemed that Cornelia had the same thought too.

"I am aware of my brother's policy," The Second Princess said, "But my brother is not the viceroy. I am. And things will be changing here. I am putting in to place my own measures to stop this insurgency."

Glancing to his side, Darlton couldn't help but share a smirk with Guilford as the room fell silent, the noblemen across from them obviously taking in what she was saying.

"And... what will those measures be, Your Highness?" Minister Fitzwilliam asked, sounding very put-off by Cornelia's words.

"I'll show you soon, Minister Fitzwilliam." The Second Princess said with a small smile. "I'm just waiting for one of my officers to finally join us."

Fitzwilliam opened his mouth to make another snide comment, but thankfully the door opened, revealing to everyone in the room the form of Captain Forsyth and Lieutenant Fick and Villetta, all still dressed in their woodland uniforms, although now all three were wearing the dark blue berets of the battalion.

Taking a single step through the door, the young man bowed in the direction of the princess. "My apologies for being late, Your Highness. We were a bit delayed."

Cornelia inclined her head in a gesture of understanding. "It's all right, captain. You and your officers are here, that's the main thing. Please take a seat."

Darlton couldn't help but smile at the attention that the Second Princess was giving the young Briton. It was a well-known fact in her Royal Guard, and possibly Britannia at large, that Cornelia absolutely detested low level politicians, so her treating the newest and youngest member of her staff in such a carefree manner was her way of putting the bureaucrats in their place.

The young man moved to his seat, sitting down besides the scarred general, with Fick and Villetta on his right side. As he was sitting down, Ciaran glanced up and locked eyes with Lord Ratzinger. A smile formed on his face.

"Ah, Lord Ratzinger. Good to see you again. Keeping well, I hope?"

The heavy-set nobleman was taken aback by the attention he was given, sweat forming on his forehead as he clearly remembered what happened during the last meeting that had him and the captain in the same room. "Ah-ah. Y-yes, my good captain. I-I have been... been well. Yourself?"

Ciaran shrugged. "Half and half."

"May we please get this meeting under way, gentlemen?" Cornelia asked sharply, drawing an apology from the two men before she continued speaking. "To all of those who have not met, this is Captain Ciaran Forsyth, captain of my Royal Guard and commanding officer of the newly formed 332 Light Infantry Battalion. This, my lords, is just one of the measures I have planned."

The news earned a scoff of derision from a man near the end of the minister's side of the table, making everyone present turned with two contrasting expressions on their faces: on Cornelia's right, looks of fearful surprise, and from the Second Princess herself and her attendants, looks of confusion and annoyance in equal measure as they all looked at the speaker.

The speaker, a man in his late fifties with a round face and too much forehead, the top of his head covered in greying and thinning hair while a handlebar moustache sat underneath his nose, looked incredulously at the Briton. He was dressed in the dark blue uniform of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police, and was not looking very pleased with the turn of events.

"Is something the matter, Lord Commissioner Broderib?" Guilford asked testily, fixing the man with a hard stare.

"The matter, My Lord," Broderib replied with equal testiness, "Is that Her Highness is trusting the fate of His Majesty's own Area in the fate of... of a... of a child!"

"He is a not a 'child'," Darlton cut in testily. "And need I remind you that the Second Princess herself was the same age as the good captain when she was taking Areas for the glory of the Empire?"

The head police officer made a small attempt to look subdued by the question but he did not relent in his words.

"I am aware of the Second Princess' illustrious history in the Britannian military, but that does bring me to my second point, which I planned to raise later but now seems the right time as any: you are using military forces for an action that is purely a police matter."

"Purely? 'Purely a police matter'?" Cornelia repeated questioningly, a look of angry incredulity on her face. "Is that why the police have done absolutely nothing to stop the Black Knights or the other insurgent groups in Area 11 and have instead been taking kick-backs from drug runners?"

The force of Broderib's hand slamming down on to the table shook the furniture slightly, a look of anger on his face as he surged to his feet. "Your Highness, that is an insult and you know it!" He said angrily. "That was an incident that we were investigating ourselves and you had no right to take matters in to your own hands."

"When the actions of a group or an individual threaten the protection of the Empire's subjects, I _will_ act." Cornelia hissed back. "And when those that are explicitly tasked with the protection of the Empire's subjects fail in that task, _then I will act_! Is that clear, commissioner?"

Darlton couldn't help but grimace at the Princess' words. In the Britannian system of government, while an Area was governed by a parliamentary system like the House of Lords in the Homeland but it was also true that, due to the near absolute power of the Britannian Royalty, a member of the Imperial family could step in when he or she felt that the government wasn't doing its job properly. Or just when they felt like stepping in.

Broderib nodded his head once, very much subdued by the Princess' outburst as he sat back down. "Understood, Your Highness."

Leaning forward in her seat, Cornelia steepled her finger together as she took a breath to calm herself down.

"The measures that we have taken to bring this insurgency to heel have been laughable at best and downright pitiful at worst," She said steadily. "I know that you are a good man, Lord Commissioner Broderib, but I sorry to say that your previous efforts were... worthless."

Looking at the man sitting at him across from on the other side of the table, Darlton saw him let out a sigh.

"I know, My Lady. Your brother, rest his soul... his orders stymied us more than I thought possible." The Lord Commissioner said, this time sounding duly chastised. "But, you have to believe me when I say that I was truly trying my best to investigate the officers that were committing these acts."

Turning his head, Darlton, along with all the others in the room, watched the Second Princess as she lowered her head in thought. A few seconds ticked by before she brought up her head to speak, turning to look at the Lord Commissioner, a sorry look on her face.

"I do believe you, My Lord, and I do value your experience. But you also have to believe me when I say that I value results more above all else."

Broderib nodded his head in reply, looking very sullen over the admission as Cornelia continued.

"The fact of the matter is that the police in Area 11 have been unsuccessful in persecuting the insurgent elements on this island, while it has been the military that has gained the most success." The Princess said with a touch of finality. "It is why I shall say this now, that it is the military who will be taking charge of the situation in Area 11."

A smile played at Darlton's face at the news, and from the nod that came from Guilford, he saw that he wasn't alone in agreeing with assessment.

"But Your Highness!" Lord Ratzinger said aghast, looking shocked at the idea. "T-to declare martial law, you need the support of parliament, both here and in the Homeland."

From his seat, the scarred general rolled his eyes at the presumption from the nobleman. Always so easy to jump at anything that might threaten their powerbase. He was once again so glad that his father sent him in to the military instead of politics.

To his right, Guilford looked ready to speak out but a voice on his left cut the knight off.

"Lord Ratzinger, Princess Cornelia is not suggesting that martial law be implemented in Area 11." Ciaran said, sitting straight chair and not seeming to be reacting greatly to the older man's suggestion. "If anything else, putting this place under martial law would do nothing but help our enemies. Am I right, Princess?"

The purple-haired royal nodded her head. "Correct. If martial law were put in to place, the insurgent forces would simply go further underground, forcing us to waste time and manpower searching for them. And it is in that regards, that Captain Forsyth and his entourage are present at this meeting."

"Entourage?" The young Briton asked to Darlton in confusion, to which the general replied with a simple shrug as Cornelia continued speaking.

"The captain has developed a doctrine that will allow us to track and fight the insurgent forces in this area. I am aware that not everyone here is that well versed in military practices, so I will allow Captain Forsyth to give us a run-down of his doctrine. Captain, if you please?"

Staying silent for a few seconds, as if he was collecting his thoughts, Ciaran leaned forward in his seat before he began speaking.

"Imagine this doctrine like an exploratory surgery," The young man began. "We, the military I mean, as the surgeon know what the problem is but we can't find it. So, we go searching around in the body for the source of infection before we remove it.

Looking around the room quickly, Darlton suppressed the groan that formed in his throat at the sight of so many sceptical or confused looks from the ministers. From the look on Ciaran's face, the annoyance was shared, but the young man didn't let it deter him.

"Now, I can see that I have already lost some of you gentlemen. So, I'll take the more direct approach." He said, managing to keep his exasperation under control. "The basic premise of this doctrine is that we send out small, four-man scouting units in to the more rural parts of the countryside, places that are further away from the eyes of the police and the military, track them down and then, when any enemy forces are found, they call in the main battalion who will then assault the enemy with aerial gunships, resulting in the enemy's destruction. Simple as that."

That really was a simple explanation, Darlton mused. But as the way the world went, no matter how good an explanation for something was, there was always at least someone who either didn't understand it, or refused to understand it.

"Your Highness, I fail to understand-" Fitzwilliam began, although he was immediately cut short from a collective groan from the tall general and the three officers in green. And from the looks of it, Cornelia shared their annoyance too.

"Minister Fitzwilliam," She said icily. "Captain Forsyth has been gracious enough to share the basics of his plan, twice now. I fail to see what is tripping you up."

"Your Highness, the intricacies of the plan are not what I oppose here." The rat-eyed man said, acting in that condescending manner Darlton knew all politicians instinctively knew how to act. "I am not debating the merits of the plan. I do not believe that I have the necessary knowledge to do so. What I am struggling to understand is, why are we putting so much faith in a plan created by a… by a Briton?"

For a few seconds, the scarred general was taken aback before he remembered that hardly any of these men had spent any time around the young man. He knew the general Britannian attitude towards people from the British Isles; cowardly people, not fit to be even considered on the same level as Britannians, even though they all practically shared the same heritage.

Looking to his side, Darlton saw Ciaran's jaw while his face remained impassive, which impressed the older man. Although what impressed the older man more was the reaction from Lady Villetta on the others side of the young man.

"How dare you?" She said, surging to her feet, a look of anger plain on her face. "All of the captain's actions have been done with nothing but the interest of Britannia's position here at their heart. What gives you the right to-"

"Villetta, calm down." Ciaran said, reaching up to put a hand on to her shoulder, stopping her in the middle of her tirade. As soon as she'd stopped talking, Villetta realised how quiet the room had fallen from her outburst and how everyone was looking at her; Princess Euphemia had her hands over her mouth in shock, while Guilford and Fick just stared at her in wide eyed surprise. Sinking slowly, she sat back down in her chair, look quite embarrassed.

"My apologies, Your Highness." She said as she turned her head to look at the Princess. "That was uncalled for."

Turning his head, Darlton looked at the Second Princess, expecting to see her directing her trademark glare at the tawny-skinned woman, but instead he saw her giving the other woman a sympathetic smile.

"It's all right, Lady Villetta," Cornelia said earnestly, literally waving off the comment with her left hand. "I would have ended up saying the same thing." Turning slightly, the princess moved her head to look at the minsters on the other side of the table.

"Minister Fitzwilliam, Captain Forsyth is a Briton, yes. But that Briton has saved my life once before and has worked tirelessly to help safeguard Britannia's position in Area 11. To insult this young man when he has worked as hard as he has is to insult _every single member of my staff_. Is that clear, Minister?"

All eyes turned to look at the man in question. For a few seconds, Fitzwilliam looked resolute, or as resolute as he could with his wide eyes, before he dropped his head in resignation.

"I understand, Your Highness."

"Good," Cornelia said, nodding her head as she continued. "Now, Captain Forsyth's plan relies heavily on his battalion acting with almost complete autonomy, since the patrols will be ranging far and wide through Area 11 to find the enemy. I trust that no-one has any problems with this?"

A polite cough came from Broderib at the end of the table again.

"A question for the young captain, if I may, Your Majesty?" The man with the handlebar moustache asked, holding a hand up politely for the Princess.

"By all means, Commissioner." Cornelia said, sounding intrigued by the possibility of what the man would say.

"Thank you." Broderib said nodding his head respectfully before he turned to look at the young man. "Captain, what would you say would be the expected outcome of casualties from these sorts of operations?"

With all eyes on him, Ciaran made a point to mentally do the calculations in his head before he spoke. "I'd say between eighty percent and ninety percent killed in action."

The older man's eyes shot open in shock at the number. "That' excessively high."

In response, the Briton just shrugged his shoulder. "Just a bit. Why did you ask?"

"If insurgents are ever captured alive, or relatively alive, I trust that you were planning on turning them over to the police. Correct?"

Sitting bolt upright in his chair, Darlton shifted his eyes to look to the sides: that was NOT something that had been discussed, and from the look of mute shock on Ciaran's face and the slightly widened eyes on Cornelia's, he knew that they knew it too.

"I'm only asking since," Broderib said, ignoring, or not even noticing, the looks from the military officers. "under the law, prosecuting these rebels is a matter for the police to handle, not a military matter."

Moving his hand underneath the table, Darlton clenched his fist in annoyance. It was true that, since the Black Knights had not technically given a declaration of war against Britannia, they counted as armed civilians not soldiers, meaning that they fell under police jurisdiction. But that also meant that the suspects would be given the absolute worst possible time. Britannia did not look kindly on insurgents and rebels. The number of people that would be jailed on trumped-up charges, or even 'accidentally' killed in custody, was far too high for the man's liking.

"Only if they are uninjured." Darlton said quickly as he turned his head to look at the other man.

"Pardon, general?" The commissioner asked in surprise.

"If, after the Fireforce doctrine is complete and we do capture any prisoners, there are uninjured among them, we will immediately hand them over to the police." Darlton said resolutely, not taking his eyes off Broderib. "If they are injured however, then they will be placed under military custody to render them aid, during which time, we will question them."

A look of confusion came to the commissioner's face as he turned to look the Second Princess. "Your Highness, the law is clear on the matter. Any rebels caught are to be-"

"Are to be turned over to the police." Cornelia finished. "I am aware of the law. But as I said before, it is the military who will be taking charge of controlling this rebellion. So, I fully agree with General Darlton's proposal. Does anyone else agree?"

Euphemia, having been intently scrutinising the situation in the room, spoke up almost immediately. "I second that motion."

Guilford followed. "Aye."

As expected, the three junior officers added their own 'ayes' to the agreement, not to anyone's surprise, especially since it was the captain's plan being put in to action.

Turning his head, Darlton cast his gaze over the members of the Provisional Council to see their reactions. He knew what the outcome would be: the council would give no votes in favour, instead choosing to follow the doctrine they were already using, which would force the Princess to overrule the vote, further putting the politicians at odds once again with Cornelia, thus forcing the state of Area 11 to be pushed further back from-

"A-aye." A hesitant voice spoke up from the end of the Council's side of the table, making all heads turn in shock to look at Lord Ratzinger, looking very uncomfortable in his seat and his hand raised slightly.

"Alfred!" One of the ministers, a man with what was obviously a wig on his head, said in shock. "What on Earth are you doing?"

"It was the captain who got Hasselbach arrested for his part in the Refrain ring when none of us saw it," Lord Ratzinger said steadfastly as he lowered his hand down. "so, he's the best man for the job. And to be honest? The sooner I can get off this island, the better. I don't want to spend the rest of my term in this damn Area."

Darlton, along with almost everyone else in the room, just stopped and blinked their eyes on confusion at the overweight minister. He knew that being self-serving was one of the basic tenants for being a politician in Britannia, but… this was definitely an odd form of it.

True to form, the Second Princess took the announcement in stride before she continued speaking. "Well, so that puts seven votes for General Darlton's plan. The votes against?"

After a few second of hesitation, the five remaining councilmen raised their hands in dissent of the plan. But basic mathematics won out.

"The 'ayes' have it. Any prisoners taken alive during Captain Forsyth's operations will be placed under military jurisdiction." Cornelia said simply, like the matter was nothing trivial, which to her, it probably was. "Let us continue with other business."

For the next few hours, the meeting went as how many other meetings with the Provisional Council went: reports of industrial output coupled with tax income from both the Britannian and Eleven populations, the disturbing reminder that drug trafficking was on the upsurge again, finding ways to keep the Elevens compliant and various other facets of colonial government. At the end of the meeting, the council members left the room, leaving Cornelia's entourage in the room alone.

When the last person had left the room, Darlton leaned back in his chair in lethargy as he let out a sigh.

"I hate politicians."

"As do we all, Darlton." Cornelia said as she slouched in her chair, raising a hand up to rest against her forehead before she turned to look at the young captain. "Ciaran, why wasn't capturing prisoners in your essay on the Fireforce?"

To the side of him, the scarred general turned his head slightly to look at the young man in question for the answer. For a few seconds, Ciaran was silent as he thought over the answer before he just simply shrugged.

"Never came to mind, sad to say." He said earnestly. "I… I was a bit too focused on the combat side of the whole thing."

Darlton nodded his head at the explanation. "We did kind of instruct him to focus purely on the actual combat itself, Cornelia. So, we can't really blame him for it."

In her seat, the Second Princess nodded her head in agreement before she sat more upright.

"All right, Ciaran. Status report on the battalion."

"We're all ready." The young man replied earnestly. "The battalion is all settled in around the main hangar as per instructions, with the gunship crews and soldiers sharing accommodations. All the gunships are set up in the hangar ready to sortie. All we need is the word."

"And when will the word come in?" Cornelia asked in a teasing manner, smirking softly.

Fick answered this time. "Griffin Two-One Alpha, Sergeant Reyes' stick, are ready to be inserted in to a position where they should, hypothetically, cover a good portion of the Yamanashi province"

"And the gunships themselves?" The lavender-haired princess asked, shifting her gaze to look at Lieutenant Villetta. Arcing an eyebrow slightly, Darlton was certain that Cornelia's eyes were a little less… stern as she looked at the other woman.

"They're all ready and primed, My Lady." Villetta replied with a nod of her head. "All of them have their tanks filled to max operational capacity and all the ammunition is ready to be loaded and switched out on demand."

Once more, the Second Princess leaned back in her chair as a happy smirk came to her lips. "So, my Warhounds are braying to be let off their leash, eh?"

The room fell silent for a few seconds, as no-one was sure how to properly bring up the fact that Cornelia had said a blatantly cheesy line before unilaterally deciding against it.

"Yes, we are, Your Highness." Ciaran said, nodding his head with a straight face.

"Good." The Princess replied with a nod of her own, before she stood up from her chair. "Ciaran, I shall leave you and your subordinates to join your men so you're all ready for the call to sortie."

"So, does that mean we won't be seeing you for dinner then?" Euphemia asked despondently, earning an apologetic shrug from the Briton.

"Afraid so, Princess."

"You'll get used to it, Euphemia." The Viceroy said as she moved away from her chair and headed towards the exit. "I'm going to take a bath. These meetings always make me feel so dirty."

The young princess couldn't help but grimace at the phrase as her older sister left the room, bringing a laugh from the others, leaving them in the room.

"So, any word on when we'll get those reinforcements, General Darlton?" Ciaran asked, turning his chair to look at the scarred senior officer.

A shrug came in reply. "Probably the better part of the week, I'd say. The conflict with the European Union is drawing high-command's attention and a lot of the veteran regiments are being sent to North Africa and Euro-Britannia. Although that doesn't mean that we'll be getting fully new regiments, but we won't be getting regiments like the Black Watch or the Grenadier Guards I'm afraid."

"Even though the Second Princess is here, were still considered of having such low importance." The female lieutenant commented dryly, earning a sympathetic nod from the General.

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Darlton said with a sad nod before he perked back up. "Still, at least that means that 332 Battalion get some much-needed practice in."

This earned a soft chuckle from the three officers

"Lady Villetta," Guilford asked, leaning to the side to rest more comfortably in his chair. "May I ask you a question?"

The question stumped the tawny-skinned woman, her golden eyes opening wide. "Umm… of course, Lord Guilford."

"Well, it's not a question really but more of an observation, My Lady: less than two months ago, I could not imagine you jumping to defend someone like Ciaran from insults. In fact, you'd have probably been the one to let the insults fly. So… why the change in attitude?"

This startled Villetta again, which was further enhanced by the Briton in question turning his seat to look at her and hear her answer.

"… Because he's defended me." She said after a few quiet seconds of nervous thought. "The fact that he let me be his second-in-command shows that. Plus, he also came to my aid when we were attacked in Sacramento. I think that rebuking any insults thrown at him is the least I can do for him at this point."

A soft smile came to Darlton's lips at the loyalty in Villetta's voice. The young man had really rubbed off on her, it seemed. To his side, the same smile was repeated on Ciaran's lips as he looked at the noblewoman.

"Looks like I made the right choice for my second, then." He said genially, which brought a smile to Villetta's face.

Leaning back in his chair again, the scarred general crossed his hands over his stomach as he took in the scene. This was good for the Briton. He knew that having Dorothea leave so early in her relationship with him would be quite tough on him and someone like Villetta, a friend and a trusted colleague, would hopefully keep him focused on the job.

"So, what's the timetable for Sergeant Reyes' patrol?" He asked, deciding to keep the focus of the conversation on military affairs.

"They'll leave to night, sir." Lieutenant Fick replied. "They'll be taken to a pre-planned drop-off point in a civilian vehicle at twenty-one-hundred hours, with three-day window to find the enemy."

"Yamanashi province is a big place." Guilford noted, sounding a little bit worried. "Are you sure that they'll find anything there?"

"If I'm right about the way the insurgents are operating, My Lord," Ciaran said, the smile still on his face. "Then they'll be in an area that'll let them get to the Settlement quickly but also to slip away quickly too. Yamanashi is where I would go if I was in the insurgent's place."

Both Guilford and Darlton nodded their heads in understanding before the scarred general spoke up.

"Well, I suggest that you three get back to your battalion. Be ready for action."

The three officers nodded their heads in agreement as they stood up from their seats before respectively nodding their heads and bidding their farewells before leaving the room, shutting the door quietly behind them, leaving the trio alone.

Looking to his side, Darlton looked at the form of Princess Euphemia who was looking intently at a small monitor in front of her.

"Penny for your thoughts, Highness?" He asked warmly, inadvertently snapping the young woman from her reverie.

"What? Oh, sorry, Darlton. I was… I was just thinking."

"About what, Princess?" Guilford asked, sounding a little bit concerned at the girl's words, which prompted a shrug from Euphemia.

"It's just… Cornelia told me that she believes that we're getting close to stopping Zero and the Black Knights." She said simply.

"And she will, Euphemia." Guilford said earnestly. "You of all people should know that when your sister says she's going to do something, she'll stick to it."

The scarred general nodded his head. He knew that the Second Princess would not let anything stop her from stopping the rebels as best as she could. Although from looking at the forlorn expression on Euphemia's face, Darlton had an inkling that wasn't what she was getting at.

"Are you worried about what's going to happen when you take over as Viceroy?"

Again, another nod.

"Your sister has prepared for that too, Princess." Darlton responded, taking on a more paternal tone now. "Your safety is her main concern, so you know that she will only hand over the title to you when she is absolutely sure that the situation here has fully stabilised. And even then, Cornelia will have made sure that you are protected."

Euphemia nodded her head in understanding as the older man continued talking, his voice dropping in to a somewhat conspiratorial tone.

"Plus, and I very much shouldn't be telling you this, but Cornelia has made it clear that she'll be keeping the units and officers here she thoroughly believes to be the best ones suited to help you when you become Viceroy."

At this, both Euphemia's and Guilford's ears perked up, as they turned to look at the general in surprise.

"And how would you know this, General Darlton?" Guilford asked in surprise.

"Because… she has selected me to be the head of Euphemia's new Royal Guard." Darlton said a with a smile. "Although, of course, the particulars of the rest of her Royal Guard are up to the Princess."

At the news, a smile crossed Euphemia's face, her eyes opening wide in delight before she clapped her hands together. "Oh, that's wonderful news. Although are you sure that sister won't mind?"

Darlton waved off the comment like it was a fly. "Of course, not. She's a skilled general in her own right, and has Gil to support her, so I think she can manage without me."

"And I get to choose the units and officers who will remain behind?" Euphemia asked, looking at the general with hopeful optimism. When he nodded, her eyes opened wider than Darlton thought possible. "Oh, brilliant! When can I start the list?"

"As soon as you can," Darlton said with a shrug, before he pointed a finger at the young woman. "But it's best to take your time with it. I think she's still a bit angry about the last time you knew something she didn't."

Euphemia opened her mouth to protest but she timidly nodded her head in agreement before she stood up from her chair.

"Well, gentlemen, if you will excuse me. I shall help my sister with her bath."

Both men nodded their heads before the pink princess moved past them and exited the room. When the door slid shut, leaving the two men alone.

Leaning back in his chair, followed by putting his feet up on to the table's surface, Guilford let his eyes move to look at the ceiling.

"I see that you didn't tell Euphemia about the fact that, if our young friend's unit preforms well here, then there is a very good chance that they will be transferred out from Cornelia's control."

"There's a good chance he won't." Darlton pointed out.

"But there is an equal chance that he will." Guilford responded, tilting his head to the side, a blank look on his face.

The general's black eyes locked with blue before he sighed in resignation.

"But he can't not perform to the best of his abilities," Darlton noted in annoyance. "He's put too much time and effort in to this, we all have."

Cornelia's Knight nodded his head in understanding. "But if he performs too well, he'll just be swallowed up by the bureaucracy of the Imperial military."

A sigh filtered from the scarred general's mouth in agreement.

"I guess we'll have to see how it goes then."

* * *

They had been in the field for a day and a half now. The four soldiers that made up the stick of Griffin Two-One Alpha moved through the Japanese brush carefully in the manner that they were trained do. Attention was paid to where their feet were placed to keep themselves from stepping on any undergrowth, while their weapons were held at the ready, their eyes scanned the immediate vicinity and the ground around them for anything out of the usual.

For Sergeant Reyes, this was what he was trained for: moving through the field, hunting for the enemy then relaying the information back to command, who would then send in the cavalry to hit the enemy.

A smile cracked his face, moving the reapplied camouflage cream on his cheeks. This was real Pathfinders work.

Granted, it did have its downside: the nutritional value of the food he and the others had to eat was garbage, the sweat was playing hell with his underclothes, the straps from his pack were rubbing against his shoulders along with the straps of his combat webbing and whenever he had to take a shit, he had to do it in a plastic bag which he would then carry in his pack, but he considered those nothing as he lead his fireteam – no, he reminded himself, his stick, through the woods of Area 11.

And to be honest, these woods weren't the worst places he'd been sent to. The late July weather made the place hot, yes, but it wasn't as bad as the Central Arabic deserts. Although the humidity was something awful, but he could not deny that the scenery was fucking lovely.

Even if said scenery had the potential to hide an insurgent force in it. But that just made it fun.

Griffin Three-Alpha had been inserted in to the Yamanashi province of Area 11 two nights ago, in an unassuming civilian camper van which had been driven by a well-paid civilian volunteer before they slipped away in to the brush. Their orders had been clear: They had a three-day window. Search the area and find any sign of the enemy.

The captain had been quite loose with the mission objective.

"If you find a base, of any size, being used by the enemy," Captain Forsyth had said. "That's fucking perfect. If you find any base that has been used by the enemy recently; that's still good. I'll only consider this mission a failure if we find nothing."

Normally, reconnaissance missions had a lot more stringent goals, but this one really let the Pathfinders basically do what they wanted, in a sense: they were the ones who could plan the patrol routes, what gear they could bring and how they could prepare. Although as Pathfinders, they were anything but unprofessional. Each man carried the standard fifty kilograms of equipment, mostly stored in the large pack on their back, while seven extra magazines sat in the pouches of his loadbearing harness along with the various other equipment they would need on the tab while their SLRs were held ready in their hands.

Moving his hand slightly, Reyes looked at his watch.

13:43

"Two minutes to the next chance over." He said quietly to the rest of the stick through his radio.

Confirmations came through in his ears, the recce team under orders to maintain silence unless fully necessary. Looking to his side, Reyes saw the men spread out around him in a sort-of V-shape, each man spread out at roughly fifty yards behind and to his sides.

The last thirty-six hours of searching had brought up hardly anything of note, and that was annoying the men. If they didn't find anything, they would consider the search a failure.

Practically all the men were veterans, minus one or two newbies, with numerous years of pathfinding and reconnaissance missions under their belt, so they knew that failing a recce mission was just a likely to happen as succeeding, but they weren't in the Pathfinders anymore: they were soldiers of 332 Battalion. They were Warhounds. Ciaran's Warhounds. Cornelia's Warhounds. If they didn't complete this mission, then what would that mean for all of them?

"Okay, guys." He said aloud, turning around to the man on his left. "Brunmeier, you're on point."

The lance corporal in question nodded his head as he moved to take over Reye's position as lead scout, the sergeant taking over his position on the left flank, both men exchanging a high-five between the other as they passed the other.

For a few short seconds, the men took a short break, drinking from their hydration packs or taking out small food bars to eat and recharge their energy for a few short moments before they began their search again.

Even with Brunmeier leading the way, that didn't mean that Reyes was idle. With his weapon still raised, his hazel eyes scanning the environment once again. Not being the point man let his eyes scrutinize the environment in just that little more detail now that he wasn't that focused on leading the men.

The clues for hunting for enemy fighters were subtle so you had to pay close attention to spot them. Some were easy to spot; a discarded sweet wrapper, a used cigarette butt, that sort of thing. Some were harder to spot; the indent in the earth where a rifle butt was rested on the ground from an insurgent patrol taking a breather from a patrol, the way in which a bush had been trampled through. But by general rule of thumb, footprints were the best things to look for.

Brunmeier had been leading the patrol for about almost five minutes before they finally struck pay-dirt with a call from the right flank of the patrol, from Manimal, got the attention.

"Yo! Over here!"

Reyes should have chastised the man for shouting so loudly, but hearing the excitement in his voice, he couldn't help rushing over to come beside him as he saw Manimal crouch down to look at something on the ground.

"What have you got, my man?" Reyes asked as he drew up behind the kneeling corporal's shoulder. But looking at the ground, he didn't need to ask as a smile came to his mouth.

Footprints, about six pairs, walking at in the direction that had intercepted Griffin Two-One Alpha's path clear in the mud.

"About fucking time." Brunmeier said in annoyed relief as he moved closer to observe the discovery, while signalling for the other man to move forward and cover the area.

Unslinging his rifle, Reyes put the gun down on the ground almost parallel with the tracks. The L61A1 was thirty-one inches in length, just a fraction short of a yard, but the sergeant knew his maths. Doing the equations quickly in his head, he measured the length of the feet plus the length of the stride.

"These guys weren't in a hurry. Must have been a routine patrol for them." He said, noting the unhurriedness of the steps.

"And they're fresh too." Manimal pointed out, gesturing to the shape and consistency of the dirt. "But there's military grade boots and civilian trainers too. What do you make of that, Rude?"

Reyes just shrugged in reply. "Can't say for certain. Maybe they're running low on equipment? Who knows? But let's follow them and find out."

Raising himself to his feet, Reyes looked to the men.

"Brunmeier, you're still on point. We'll move in a diamond, following the trail. Manimal; you take the left. I'll take the right, and Chaffin will bring up the rear. Everyone, keep your weapons up and ready. Everyone good to go?"

The three men replied in the positive before they quickly moved in to their ordered positions, their rifles ready for combat. When they were set, Brunmeier ordered the advance, moving out a steady pace.

Moving along the forest, Reyes' eyes flitted from bush to bush, tree to tree, observing everything. The information packet he and the rest of the battalion had been given highlighted their enemies, both the JLF and the Black Knights, in terms of uniforms and equipment. So, his eyes were looking for any flashes of drab green or black fabric. Keeping his right eye focused over the very top of his iron sights, he let his vision sweep over everything that was on his side of the diamond.

After roughly ten minutes of waling, Brunmeier ordered the team to a halt, holding his closed left fist up for the others to see. At the signal, the three other men stopped in their tracks, weapons pressed tight in to their shoulders.

"What do you see, Brunmeier?" Sergeant Reyes asked even as he scanned his immediate sector.

"Possible enemy contact, four hundred metres to our front." The other man said, keeping his voice quiet.

"Spread out in to line!" Reyes hissed suddenly. "Get in to cover, now!"

The men followed his command in a snap, each person moving to the side and dropping down behind something, keeping their bodies low to the ground.

Taking cover behind a sizeable tree, Reyes peered out from around the flora, snapping open one of the pouches on his belt and pulling out a pair of binoculars. Lifting them to his eyes, he adjusted the magnification level until he could see clearly what had gotten Brunmeier's attention.

A sly grin came to Reyes' mouth as he lowered his binoculars.

"Chaffin, hand me the radio."

The private in question nodded his head as he leopard crawled over to the sergeant, reaching back and unhooking the handset from the radio-set on his back as he brought himself up in to a kneel before handing the piece of tech to the other man.

Keying the handset, Reyes waited for the small _click_ that meant the message was being received.

"Griffin Command, this is Griffin Two-One Alpha. How copy? Over."

The radio set crackled for a few seconds before another voice come through on the other end.

"Griffin Two-One Alpha, this is Griffin Command. We read you loud and clear. Send traffic. Over."

"Griffin Command, we have enemy contact at grid five-four-sierra, three-one-two-one-two-zero, three-nine-three-four-nine-four-four. How copy? Over."

"Two-One Alpha has enemy contact at grid five-four-sierra, three-one-two-one-two-zero, three-nine-three-four-nine-four-four. Message received. Standby for further orders. Griffin Command, out."

Handing the handset back to Chaffin and replacing his binoculars in their pouch, Reyes raised his rifle again.

"Sit tight, boys. The cavalry is on its way." He said, earning a few quiet words from the men of his fire team. Turning his attention back to the target location though, he couldn't help but feel a little bit of dread at the sight of the head of a Knightmare Frame staring off in to the distance.

* * *

The inside of the Viceroy's Palace shook as three blasts of the air-raid siren sounded in rapid succession through the large building. To the members of the Palace's staff, the sound only brought confusion since they had never been briefed about the use of a three-blast siren so they simply went about their tasks.

For the soldiers of 332 Battalion, the sound was a call to drop whatever they were doing and to spring in to action.

The soldiers and pilot crews had been stationed on the same level of the hangar, which was where a good number of the barracks were located, an area that was could hold almost three whole regiments of infantry plus support staff. However, after the disaster at Narita, a lot of this space was empty meaning that the battalion had free reign for where to stow their gear and to sleep.

Under normal circumstances, the soldiers and pilots would be able to take advantage of the amenities offered to the soldiers in the palace: a self-service bar (with a small number of alcoholic drinks), a multimedia room with a wide-screen TV for movies, a sizeable gym, mess and sleeping quarters, along with a quartermaster's store and a firing range. These rooms would have normally been filled with the various bodies of the aviators, aircrews and soldiers making use of their free time, cleaning their weapons, running PT or just generally wasting time.

When the siren sounded, all those activities were dropped. Weapons were quickly and concisely reassembled, drinks and sources of entertainment were left where they were and exercises were stopped as all military personnel began the task of getting their equipment together. Fatigues were pulled on and body armour was equipped before the soldiers headed to the quartermaster to collect their weapons.

It was in to this organized maelstrom of activity that Ciaran walked in to. Already dressed in his gear, cap fixed on to his head, he headed towards the barred window that led to the quartermaster's store to collect his weapon before he moved to join his squad mates.

"It is fucking on, sir!" A soldier called out to him as he moved past the captain, his weapon in his hands and a happy grin on his face.

"You fucking know it, mate!" The young man replied with a grin of his own, but inside of his head, another thought was going around: " _This is taking too long._ "

"Your gun, captain." The quartermaster, a stout man with the top-heavy physique of a wrestler said as he handed Ciaran his rifle with underslung grenade launcher, beaming broadly as he continued speaking. "Give them one for me, sir."

The Briton nodded his head as he accepted the rifle, a small smile on his face before he turned away, not really wishing to engage with the man any more than he needed to. And looking around, he knew that he was right to do so: the pile up of men behind him was moving too slowly.

Looking around quickly as he moved to the side to let another soldier get his weapon, Ciaran set his mouth in to a grimace as he watched his supposedly elite fighting force collect their weapons at a pace that reminded him far too much of getting lunch at the dining hall back when he was in primary school.

"You know you can give them an order to move faster, sir." A voice behind him said, making the young officer turn around. Behind him, Sergeant-Major Reynolds and Sergeant Colbert were coming up towards him. Both men were dressed in their combat uniform and gear while their own weapons were slung across their chests.

The suggestion made Ciaran's mood sour even more, as his mouth set in to an even harder line as he narrowed his eyes at the taller men.

Neither of them blanched at the display, with Reynolds lightly slapping Colbert on the arm. "Sergeant, get these men moving faster."

"Yes, sergeant-major." The younger NCO said, nodding his head before he began calling out to the soldiers. "Once you have your weapons, move out to the assembly area! Form up in sticks, just like we practised. Let's move!"

That got the men moving quicker, as the ones who were staying around quickly moved out of the area and the line of men waiting to get their weapons moved just a bit faster. Moving forward, Reynolds put a hand on his young commanding officer's shoulder.

"Sir, just relax. We'll get this down right. Don't worry." He said quietly and calmly, trying his best to placate the younger man. But his words fell on deaf ears as Ciaran moved away from his grip and headed towards the assembly area himself, already thinking aloud about how he could fix the problem.

"I need to talk to Cornelia, or maybe Darlton. That was too slow. We can't waste time on having the men get their weapons. It needs to be done quickly. But where can they put their weapons? Surely, they can't have them with them at all times. Or could they? -"

"Captain." Reynolds said simply but sternly, making Ciaran pause before he spun around to look at him, a look of concern in the older man's eyes. "Sir, you're going to burn out before we get in to combat. Calm. Down."

Looking at his subordinate officer, the young Briton took in several breaths as he slowed himself down from the high-speed conversation he was having with himself before he put both of his up to his face, letting out a low groan.

"Goddamnit, you're right." He admitted as he dragged the hands down his face, comically stretching out his lower eyelids before he let his hands fall completely. "But this must be gotten down right the first time, or we'll never get a chance to get it right a second time."

This brought a small smile to the sergeant-major's face. "Sir, I understand. But please: you acting like this really doesn't inspire a lot of confidence in the men."

Okay, now that was a sucker-punch for him. He knew from experience how horrible it was to know that you were good at something, yet to have someone continually staring down your shoulder, doubting your every move. God, it was fucking horrible.

Letting out another sigh, Ciaran looked quite ashamed at what he had done. Reynolds was right: these men were professionals, so they obviously knew what they were doing.

"You're right." He said, nodding his head. "I shouldn't worry too much about this."

"Good choice." Reynolds said, nodding his own head. "All you have to worry about is when the bullet's start flying."

Ciaran couldn't help but chuckle at the sergeant-major's words as he turned to continue walking towards the assembly area again. "Very good point, Reynolds. I'll leave the rest of this to you. Know where Lieutenant Fick is?"

"He's with Lieutenant Villetta, sir." Reynolds pointed over the young captain's shoulder, towards the hangar. "They're waiting for you so they can over the operational plan now."

This bit of information nearly caused the Briton's eyes to bug out of his skull in shock before he slapped his right hand hard in to his forehead. He knew there was something else he was supposed to be doing.

"Fucking hell!" He yelled out as he spun around quickly and ran at a full sprint towards the hangar, leaving Reynolds behind to laugh at his antics before he too moved to join the soldiers forming up to move in to the hangar.

Weaving his way past the soldiers, Ciaran made his way to where he best thought that his two lieutenants would be. Moving in to the hangar, he slowed as he took in the sight before him: the gunships of Butcher squadron, all six standing in a line, were being swarmed over by their crews. Crew served weapons were being fitted in to their housings while engineers went about their tasks of preparing the helicopters for the first mission.

At the very end of the queue of gunships, the young man saw his two subordinate officers standing neck to Butcher 100, both dressed in their own combat uniforms and looking intently at a hand-held electronic map display, while the helicopter's pilot sat in the cockpit, seemingly checking his instruments. Coming closer, Ciaran saw the tawny-skinned noblewoman wasn't wearing the same body armour as Fick. Instead, he saw that she was wearing a simple webbing system, with various pouches attached to it along with a pistol holster. Her flight helmet was already on, leaving only a small sliver of her long silver hair to be exposed from underneath the back of it.

"Villetta, Fick!" The young man called out, as he closed towards them, causing the two to stop talking before they spun around and saluted him as he set his radio-set up, placing the headset over his ear. "What's the sitrep?"

"Sir," Fick responded first. "Brave Three-Alpha is still holding position outside of the enemy encampment. The information they gave is a force of two dozen fighters, predominantly infantry with a single heavy weapon."

"What's the weapon?"

"A Burai Knightmare frame, sir." The lieutenant replied.

Ciaran nodded his head. This was good. This was exactly the type of force that they had been training against.

"Let's see the map." He said, holding out his hand to accept the device, which he was given to by Villetta. Looking at the screen, he saw that it was a display of a topographic map of the area that the scout team was in, their position highlight by a blue triangle. In front of them, probably three hundred metres or so, was the position of the enemy encampment, a small cluster of black squares with several red dots among them and a large red square right in the middle. "So, what were you two talking about?"

Villetta replied this time. "I was suggesting that if I swing around from behind where Brave Three-Alpha is positioned, then I can get a better lay of the land and spread the forces out properly." She swept a finger over the map accordingly as she spoke. "I've also got my M197 tooled up so the first two dozen rounds are HEAP while the rest are HE. Sound good?"

Ciaran nodded his head. "Yeah, that sounds good. Taking out that Knightmare will be the main worry for us."

"Unless the enemy has any AAMs." Fick said quietly, which was a valid concern, Ciaran knew, but to him it still seemed to be an unnecessary worry.

Giving the device back to the noblewoman, the young man let out a small sigh. "If this all works well, then they won't even have a change to use them."

Although he had to admit to himself, those words didn't really fill him with confidence. The Fireforce doctrine had been implemented when anti-air weaponry was in very short supply to insurgent fighters, leaving them with towed or vehicle mounted AA guns. Plus, the Rhodesians had to worry about their own fragile helicopters when they went in to action, which with the embargoes placed on them, would not have allowed them to create any serious countermeasures.

But, he had to remind himself: they weren't in Rhodesia.

"Well, I'm sure the flares on these babies-" He nodded his head at Butcher 100. "Will be more than up to the task. Plus, I think that Miss Villetta's initial pass will put the fear of God in to the enemy enough for them not to use any weapons like that."

The smile he put on to his face seemed to allay the pair of Britannian's worries as they returned the smile in turn.

"Captain Forsyth." Reynolds' voice sounded from behind him again, making Ciaran turn around to see the sergeant-major walking towards him before stopping short. "All the men are assembled."

Looking past the taller man, the young captain saw that, correctly, all the men were standing at ease in their sticks, standing by company, ready for the command to move out. Out of the corner of his eye, the Briton saw the helicopter crews were standing beside their vehicles, ready to hear his words.

Moving past Reynolds and standing in front of the battalion, Ciaran took in a deep breath before he gave one of his first orders to the men under his command.

"Battalion! Atten-shun!"

As one, the soldiers stamped their right foot parallel to their left foot as their hands shot down to their sides as they waited to hear what their commander would say next.

Standing in front of his men, Ciaran really didn't know what to say next. He was good with his words, he knew that, but right now, he couldn't say anything that these men hadn't already heard before or was ripped from a movie or something similar.

"Warhounds!" He called out, trying to stall time. "... You all know your jobs, and you know how to do them. So, let's go give these insurgent bastards hell!"

Okay, so it turned out he did know what to say. And from the nodding heads of Pappy and Colbert, he knew that the words must have struck the right cord with them.

' _Let's see if I can keep this going._ ' He thought to himself as he stepped to the side. "All right then, you horrible lot. What are you waiting for? A personal invitation from the Emperor? Let's get this show on the road! Sergeant-major, move them out!"

Admittedly, that one did lack the same sort of vim he had in the first speech, but it got the job done as the men all gave a cheer in reply as Reynolds followed the order given to him.

"Stick leaders, get your men in to your transports! Remember: first in, last out. Let's go, let's go!"

As one, the battalion surged forward, all of them expertly heading towards their designated vehicle, with each gunship's crew climbing in to them. Turning to his side, Ciaran held up a hand to Villetta who was about to climb in to her Valkyr.

"Sir?"

"Good hunting, Villetta." Ciaran said a with a smile. "And no matter what happens, I want you to know that it's been a pleasure to work with you."

Villetta's golden eyes opened wide at him in shock before she smiled and took his hand, returning the shake. "The same to you, Ciaran. Good hunting."

Retrieving his hand, he then turned to face Fick, to whom he smiled before giving him a reassuring pat on the arm. "Ready to rock?"

The Britannian lieutenant chuckled slightly before he nodded his head. "Ready sir."

With Fick in to, he walked away from Butcher 100, moving down its length before he headed towards his own gunship. From the looks of it, the last man of the assembled fireteam was already embarked, with the side doors of vehicle closed but the rear ramp remained open. As Ciaran climbed in to the troop space, leaving Fick to head to his own vehicle, his ear piece crackled in to life before the distinctive voice of the Second Princess came in to his ear.

"To all the soldiers and pilots of 332 Battalion," Cornelia said sternly as she addressed everyone via the radio. "I wish you good luck in you endeavour. Maybe fortune smile on you fondly. Good hunting."

That brought a small smile to Ciaran's face as he climbed the rest of the way up the ramp and sat down in the seat on the left side of the compartment, the same seat that he had occupied when they had first tested the doctrine, which placed him directly across from Sergeant Colbert again, who had a surprised smile of his own on his face.

"What's up, sergeant?" The young man had to call out, the sound of the Valkyr's engines roaring in to life, propelling the rotors in to moving.

"I've never known the Princess to do that before!" Colbert called out as the noise became tumultuous, with the whirring sound of the rear ramp moving closed adding to the noise.

Leaning back in his seat, Ciaran kept the smile on his face as he listened to the other soldiers converse about what the Princess had said.

"Maybe it's because we're a new unit!" One of them called out to someone. "This is our first mission after all."

"Yeah, but some of us have served under her before you know." Another one countered, sounding quite annoyed. "She's never given any sort of speech like that before."

Turning his head to the side, Ciaran looked the slowly closing gap caused by the ramp as he mulled over what Cornelia had said.

' _That had to be for my benefit then._ ' He mentally told himself as the door closed shut with a hiss, bathing the soldiers inside with the small amount of light that was let in via the small side windows of the helicopter.

* * *

The engine of Butcher 100 rocked the aircraft's frame as Villetta took in a steadying breath as she waited for the all clear from air traffic control, although the supportive words from Princess Cornelia still rang in her ears.

"Ready, Miss Villetta?" The Cajun accented voice of Boisseau came in to her ears, making Villetta turn her head slightly to look behind her at the pilot of the gunship sat in the rear bubble canopy. Even though his helmet was on fully and the visor was down, the broad smile on his olive-skinned face made his toothy grin seem all the more prominent.

The noblewoman nodded her head once as she returned the smile. "Definitely. It's just a whole different ordeal when you know that the enemy is going to be shooting back."

Boisseau nodded his head and opened his mouth to speak, but his reply was cut off as the radio crackled in to life.

"Control to Butcher Squadron. You are given green light for take-off." The Palace's air traffic controller said. "I repeat: Butcher Squadron, you are given green light for take-off. Happy hunting. Over."

Switching her radio frequency to the control tower, Villetta responded. "Copy that, Control. We are moving out. Over and out." Pulling her reflective visor down over her eyes, she radioed to all the other helicopter pilots. "Butcher One Actual to all Butcher Units; we have green light. I repeat: we have green light. Prepare to move out. Over and out."

Almost immediately, the other pilots replied in the positive, the sound of their own engines starting up adding to the miniature hurricane in the hangar.

Shaking out the tension that had been building in her shoulders and arms, Villetta spoke again to her pilot. "Boisseau, take us out."

" _Tout de suite, mon lieutenant_." The pilot replied. Seconds later, the helicopter began moving forward slowly on its wheels, it's propellers pushing it in motion. The effect was similar to a Knightmare rolling out, but the added lift of the helicopter gaining height was something different all together.

In less than half a minute, the Valkyr was airborne and steadily climbing upwards in to the early afternoon sky before it banked to the left and in to the west. Even though she had flown in the gunship several times before when they were at Sacramento, Villetta was still amazed at how quickly the machine could fly with its sheer size, even flying at two-hundred and fifty kilometres per hour. Below her, the off-white colour of the buildings in the Tokyo Settlement quickly bled away in to the dead grey of the Sagamihara ghetto before it was replaced by the greens of the woods of the more rural parts of Area 11, inter-cut by the sheer black line of the highway.

Turning her left wrist slightly to see the underside, the tawny-skinned woman looked at the time. Five minutes since take off. By now, the other five gunships would be taking off from the hangar, following in Villetta's flight path, one after the other. Just as they had been trained. That left just a little over twenty minutes until they reached their target.

"Boisseau, I want you to follow the highway until we're past Otsuki, then swing left over the mountain range."

"Copy that." The warrant-officer responded before he shifted the vehicle to follow the line of the highway. Flying as high and as quickly as they were, Villetta had to wonder: did anyone on the ground have any idea what was flying overhead? Probably not.

Opening her comms, she tuned the radio in to the frequency that Stick Bravo Three-Alpha were using for their comms.

"Two-One Alpha, this Butcher Actual. How copy? Over."

A few short seconds of static before Sergeant Reyes' voice came through in to her ears. "Butcher Actual, this Griffin Two-One Alpha. We copy you. Over."

"Two-One Alpha; be advised that 332 Battalion will be coming up over your six. Interrogative: what is the situation of the enemy? Over."

"Butcher Actual: enemy is still unaware of our presence. Over."

A sly smile came to her lips. Perfect.

"Two-One Alpha. We are eighteen minutes out. Remember your orders: open fire when K-car engages enemy. How copy? Over."

"Butcher Actual: Griffin Two-One Alpha copies all. Out."

At the confirmation, Villetta cut the link, leaving the only sound in her ears to be the sounds of the jet powered rotors thrumming quickly overhead.

She thought over what was happening in the holds of the other gunships. Ciaran and the Pathfinders would be checking that their weapons were ready, racking the slides to reveal the brass jacketed ammunition held inside before letting them snap back in to position. The radios had already been tuned in, a precaution that the young captain was intent on having done correctly. Medical gear had been shared out proportionately between each man in the stick, even though she knew that CMT Bryan and his fellow medic, Peterson, was flying with the battalion.

It was still so amazing to her that someone so young could create something with such a high degree of planning. And it took less than a month to finalize.

No wonder the Briton was in the Viceroy's Royal Guard.

The gentle shifting of the Valkyr to their right made Villetta turn her head to look out of the side of her cockpit. She could see the town of Otsuki quickly receding in to the distance behind and below the gunship.

"All right, this is it." She said to both the other crew-members of the aircraft. "We're in the final stretch. Andrews, ready up."

"Aye, ma'am." The other woman responded. Without having to look back (not that she really could anyway), Villetta knew that the crewman was engaging the side door on the left side of the hull to slide flush against the flank of the gunship before she moved the M197 in to position, gripping the spade-grips tight in preparation for combat.

Keying her radio, the noblewoman broadcast to the entire battalion. "Butch Actual to Battalion; we are eight minutes out. Prepare for imminent combat."

Ciaran's voice came in quickly. "All right everyone, this is it. Ready up."

Villetta couldn't help but smile at the commanding tone that was in the young man's voice.

Reaching forward, the tawny-skinned woman flipped and pressed a quick series of switches and buttons to activate the targeting system that sat on the nose of the helicopter, the Cyclopean eye opening and 'blinking' as the camera inside the device orientated itself. On the inner side of Villetta's visor, the image she could see changed from the view from her cockpit to the view from the chin mounted camera. While it still did cause a little bit of disorientation when it initiated, the feeling quickly faded as the co-pilot and Fireforce commander took in the world from the new viewpoint.

Turning her head side to side, she checked the movement of the system before using the trigger mechanism on the gun controls to zoom in then out on the terrain as it sped past. The quality of the camera showed everything below in high definition, but the best part of the targeting camera was the ability to make out in proper detail where units, both friendly and non-friendly, were precisely.

As she brought the camera to look directly ahead, Villetta could see four very small green icons that the gunship was rapidly coming closer to, the icons blinking at the very edge of the periphery of a large clearing.

The radio crackled in to life. "Butcher Actual, this is Griffin Two-One Alpha. We can hear you getting closer and so can the enemy. They're getting spooked. Over."

Another smile graced Villetta's lips. This was too good to be true.

"Butcher One copies all. Keep your heads down gentlemen. This is going to be danger-close. Over."

"Griffin Two-One Alpha copies all, ma'am. Over and out. See you when this is over."

The tawny-skinned woman nodded her head, although the gesture was wholly unnecessary. "All right. Boisseau, Andrews: prepare for combat!"

"Oui, madam!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

At the command, the Valkyr turned to the right before it began circling the area, giving Villetta a brilliant view of the combat zone. In the middle of the obviously artificially cleared out area of forest, probably about three hundred metres in size, were built several small prefabricated huts. They were simple things: square in shape, made from what looked like green painted metal sheets, further camouflaged with splotches of paint and what looked like rudimentary camouflage netting to further hide them. A gap of maybe fifty square metres of clear ground lay between them, and in the middle of that, stood the unmistakeable form of a Burai Knightmare frame.

"Gun ready, ma'am!" Andrews' yelled out from her position in the belly of the vehicle as the helicopter orientated itself to fire on the target. Through the chin mounted camera, Villetta saw that the enemy's reaction to the arrival of the helicopter gunship was mixed: some of the people on the ground were still stood in place, awed by the vehicle's arrival, while others ran for cover.

But the immediate concern was the Burai, which was beginning to power up.

"Primary target is enemy Knightmare! Andrews, take it out!" The noblewoman called loudly over the radio.

"Copy that!" Came the reply. "Gun firing... now!"

Several seconds later, the left most edge of Villetta's vision was blurred as the twenty-millimetre gun fired off its first burst, the loud _BRRRRRT_ sound of the rotary cannon firing its lethal payload at the target. Watching the white-hot shells cut through the air, Villetta watched in fascination as the shells pierced through the metal skin of the Burai, making the machine jerk to the side for a split second like it had been punched before the machine ruptured in to flames in an impressive explosion, taking out one of the huts and a couple of enemy fighters with it.

That got the insurgents to decide what to do, although again the choices were mixed: those that had chosen to run and hide as they bolted, or bomb-shelled as Ciaran would say, while the others decided to be more active and chose to fire on Butcher 100.

It was at that moment in time that the other Valkyrs of Butcher Squadron arrived on the scene, three of them following Villetta's aircraft in the left-hand circle while two of them broke away and flew directly over the combat zone, flying low through the cloud of black smoke, frightening the insurgents even more. The sound of Two-One Alpha's rifles firing added an extra element of chaos to the scene.

"Butcher Actual to all Butcher and Griffin units: we are in it now, everyone!" Villetta called out as she switched the camera feed to a small square that sat in the corner of her visor, letting her view the entire scene in its entirety.

It was only then that she truly realised the scope of the source of apprehension that Ciaran had when they learnt that the target area was in a forest: these trees were big, and so close together! Their size had to range from anywhere between twenty and thirty feet in height, with long branches akin to those on deciduous while the others were the firm evergreens.

It was an almost impenetrable sea of alternating shades of green.

As the Fireforce's commander, it was Villetta's job to decide where each G-car would unload their sticks and which ones would provide fire support. She was the one who would use the intelligence gathered to formulate the full battle-plan when she arrived at the combat area. But she had no immediate idea how to work this problem out.

Her fellow pilots were trying to work out the same problem too.

"Butcher Actual, this Butcher One-Two!" Warrant-officer de Pomeroy called out over the radio, sounding very unnerved by the turn of events. "I've got nowhere to offload my sticks. I'm a sitting duck out here."

"Butcher One-Two, just keep flying! You'll be fine." Villetta responded before she switched her radio to a secure channel. "Captain, we've got a problem."

"Yeah, I heard!" Ciaran yelled back, although not out of anger if the loud thumping sounds in the background were any indication. "You're the commander here, Villetta. It's your call!"

"... Copy that." She said in reply before shutting off the radio link and closing her eyes to think, leaving the sound of the helicopter blades cutting the air and the sound of gunfire to fill her ears as she thought to herself. ' _Okay, think. Tall trees make a landing impossible. Felling them with gunfire might work, but that would make the landing zone too hazardous for both the Valkyr's and the soldiers and take too long. There might be a way to drop the men in, but that would too... dangerous..._ "

As soon as the idea clicked in to her head, she switched her radio frequency to the whole battalion.

"Butcher One-Four and One-Five; maintain strafing runs. Keep the enemy hemmed in. Butchers One-One, One-Two and One-Three; form a triangle with One-One at the north-east as the tip, three hundred metres out from the clearing's edge. All Griffin units; prepare for fast-rope insertion!"

"You heard the lady!" The British captain called out over the radio. "All sticks; we're fast-roping in! Sergeant, let's get it ready!"

Under her helmet, Villetta felt the sweat begin to heavily build up under the protective covering as she watched the three gunships move in position, forming the previously mentioned triangle, all of them moving so their weapons faced inwards as their doors opened, ready to disgorge their payload of soldiers.

This had to be the tensest moment of her career.

* * *

He was sure that he was momentarily deaf, the gust of air was that strong as the rear ramp was opened, letting Ciaran see out over the top of the forests surrounding the enemy encampment. Butcher One-One was hovering a good few feet above the top of the tree-line, the downward force of the twin rotors making the leaves dance and sway beneath him.

Pulling his goggles down over his eyes, the young man took in what was going on. This was fucking nuts!

"Here, sir!" Sergeant Colbert called out, drawing Ciaran's attention. Turning, he saw the sergeant coming towards him with two bundles of thick rope in his hands. "Attach it to the ring above the ramp!"

"Got it!" The young man said as he took the rope, although he was completely unprepared for the weight. "Jesus, this is heavy!"

Reaching up, Colbert easily attached the hook on one end of the rope to a ring dangling from the roof of the helicopter. "Yeah, just a bit."

Shifting the rope in his hand, Ciaran strained his seemingly insignificant five foot eight to reach up and managed to grasp the ring above him before attaching the length of rope to the ring, followed by pushing the rope in his hand to let it drop over the side of the ramp. The sergeant did the same.

"You ready, sir?" Colbert yelled out, giving the Briton thumbs up, which was promptly returned.

With the confirmation given, the sergeant grabbed tightly on to the rope, his rifle slung behind. Copying the gesture, Ciaran did the same before the pair, almost in sync, pushed themselves forward, pressing the insides of the boots against the rope.

Then they just dropped.

When he had arrived in Area 11, Darlton had taken the time to inform the young, misplaced man about the basics of military operations, which then shifted on to the more intricate actions when it was revealed that Ciaran already knew a good number of the basics. The fast-rope insertion was one of them. There wasn't much to say about the technique really; just treat it like you were sliding down a fireman's pole.

What he did not cover was how quickly a person's hands could heat up when they travelled down the rope. Especially when they were moving underneath a hovering helicopter.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Ciaran swore out loudly as he sped down the rope, Colbert just a few seconds above him. Thank God for the man who created military-issue gloves.

In a few short seconds, the young man's boots hit solid ground. Releasing the rope and raising his rifle, he quickly moved forward away from the rope before dropping to his knee, lifting the rifle up to peer through the sight on top. Out of the corner of his right eye, he saw Colbert doing the same as the rest of the men made their way down the ropes and on to the ground.

In what had to be just a little under twenty seconds, all twelve men that had been carried in Butcher One-One were on the ground, even as the helicopter gunship remained hovering above them, kicking up a swirling mass of fallen leaves and dirt. But so far, all had gone well.

"Butcher One-One; all sticks are on the ground. Moving in to holding pattern." The Valkyr's pilot reported over the radio.

"Butcher One-Two; all sticks are out and on the ground. Moving in to holding pattern now." Came the second.

"Butcher One-Three; last man is out and on the ground. Going in to holding pattern." The third pilot reported before Villetta's voice came through.

"Butcher Actual copies all. Griffin One-One and One-Two will act as sweep units, the rest will provide the stops. Good luck, Griffin Actual. Out."

Nodding his head in thanks before remembering he had a radio, he keyed his mic. "Griffin Actual copies all. Griffin company, let's move out!"

Rising from their feet, Ciaran led the sweep units in to the fray. Leading from the front would have been an insane move for the Briton, and some part of him did realize that, but he had already done it three times before so there was no real point bucking the trend now as he and the other seven Pathfinders quickly tramped through the under-brush, their weapons held high and ready for action.

Moving fluidly past a tree, the young man scanned the area in front of him as he led the others towards the clearing. Keeping the butt of his rifle pressed against his shoulder, Ciaran let his eyes scan left and right as he advanced, the gun ready to snap up and fire at any target.

"Butcher One-Four; prosecuting target." The gunship's pilot stated, seconds before the helicopter in question flew low over the edge of the clearing, looking like some kind of prehistoric beast as it flew past the trees, it's chin mounted chaingun firing away at a target that Ciaran couldn't see.

"Keep your spacing, everyone." He called out to the other soldiers, who were spaced out about four metres from the other. It wasn't the widest of gaps by any margin, and a good shot from a rocket propelled grenade would easily take them out, but the close confines of the wood did not really allow them to spread out any further.

The sound of rapid shots of gunfire from his left side made Ciaran turn his head. Even with the sun still a good way from setting on the horizon, the flashes of gunfire still lit up the insides of the woods, telling him that the left flank had engaged with insurgents trying to run.

"Contact to our front!" One of the soldiers cried out just as bullets snapped and hissed past them.

"Advance by fire and movement, now!" Ciaran called out in response. "Don't stop!"

In response, every odd numbered man in the sweep dropped to a knee and began firing single shots in front of them while every even numbered man quickly advanced forward at a run, Ciaran amongst them. After a short sprint, the soldiers in front dropped to a knee and began firing before the other man leapfrogged past them, enemy rounds singing over their heads all the while.

It was on the second leapfrog that Ciaran got a brief look at the enemy he was fighting. As he dropped to his knee again, he spied a flash of bright colour against the dark woods appearing from behind a bush at least a hundred yards in front of him. Swinging his rifle, he immediately pulled on the trigger twice, two bullets flying out of the barrel in response.

The bullets ripped through the air, but the target had already dropped back down in to cover, making Ciaran swear in response. Shifting his aim, he pointed the barrel of the gun at the middle of the bush and fired off another pair of shots. This time, the rounds got a more favourable result.

A cry of pain came from the concealed side of the bush as a man swung up and pitched backwards, blood arcing bright red in the air before it fell to the earth.

Smiling in a sardonic smile, the Briton keyed his mic. "Griffin Actual to all Griffin units: aim low when shooting at cover. You'll have a better chance at hitting the enemy. Out."

Acknowledgements rang out from the other stick leaders as the others members of the sweep line came up beside him and began adding their own firepower alongside their commanding officer's, the bullets quickly ripping apart the opposing scrub. More screams of pain followed the gunshots before about half a dozen enemy fighters popped up from the brush and bolted in all different directions away from the attacking soldiers.

"Don't let them get away!" Ciaran called out as he sighted his rifle at the back of a fleeing insurgent before firing off another pair of shots, sending the man sprawling in to the dirt. Sure that the man was dead, the Briton rose to his feet and ordered his stick to advance forward in to the combat zone.

Pushing past the ruined remains of the shrub, he paid the bodies no mind, so focused as he was on getting the team in to the clearing. It was only when they had reached the edge of the clearing, their guns raised up did the call from Villetta come in through his earpiece.

"Butcher Actual to Battalion: all units, cease fire. I repeat; cease fire. Enemy personnel in the clearing have been eliminated."

Looking around quickly, the young man saw that the whole clearing was devoid of life, the sounds of the gunships above being the only sound in the air.

"Griffin Actual to Butcher Actual." He said as he keyed his radio. "Interrogative: can you see any enemies outside of the killzone? Over."

"Griffin Actual; wait one." Villetta responded, falling in to silence before she spoke up again. "Griffin Actual, I've got a small force of about… seven hostiles trying to escape from the south-eastern edge of the killzone. Over."

"Griffin Actual to all Griffin units: which stick is in the south-east?"

His earpiece crackled in to life as Villetta replied. "Griffin Actual, Griffin Two-Two Alpha is covering the south-east. I'll detach them and Butcher One-Four to engage. Over."

"Copy that, Butcher Actual. Out."

Surveying the area in front of him through the treeline, Ciaran saw that it was right. Except for the Valkyrs flying overhead, there wasn't anything moving in the clearing.

Keying his radio, he spoke to everyone again. "All Griffin Units, move in to the clearing, but keep your eyes open. Butcher Actual, you can bring the G-cars down but keep some flying overhead for a security screen. How copy? Over."

All replies came back in the positive before, seconds later, the twenty-four-man strong platoon filtered out from the trees, their woodland camouflages working brilliantly to made it look like all the men literally melted out from under the boughs of the trees before they advanced in to the clearing, their weapons raised as they scanned the area and checked for any remaining hostiles as they moved closer towards the centre of the area.

Soon, numerous calls of "All clear" came through the radio, prompting the young man to move and lead his own fireteam in to the clearing proper.

"All Butcher units: you are clear to land. Make yourselves comfortable. We're going to be here for a while."

Various confirmations came through in response before the gunships began shifting their paths to move in to clearing before they began moving down to the ground.

Turning to look at Sergeant Colbert, the young captain removed his hat to wipe at some built up sweat from his brow before replacing it.

"Sergeant, I want you to run and get Fick and Reynolds to come over to me. I need to talk to them."

"Why couldn't you just radio them, sir?" Colbert asked in confusion before a small but goofy smile came to the younger man's face.

"Now where's the fun if I don't abuse my rank now and again, eh?" Ciaran said happily before the smile fell from his face as he spoke more sternly. "Jump to it, Sergeant, if you please."

Colbert didn't say anything before he nodded his head and waved the other members of the fireteam to follow him as they left the Briton to watch the helicopters begin their descent down in to the clearing, their pilots turning their bulk to avoid hitting the trees surrounding them or the remaining huts.

Ciaran watched as the helicopter numbered 100 extended its landing gear and landed on the battle-scarred clearing, it's rotor blades gusting up large clouds of dust before they slowed down and eventually stopped as the pilot cut the engine, letting the dust fall and settle on to the ground.

With the last helicopter down on the ground, the forest was quickly enveloped in the more natural sounds of the forest, even if it was for a few short seconds. The sounds of the wind whispering through the trees and the rustle of leaves and grass filled the air before any other sound replaced.

Looking around, Ciaran was stunned by how much destruction they had wrought: almost the entirety of the clearing was pock-marked with the shells from the high-explosive rounds and grenades. Four of the huts were wrecked, either from incoming fire or from the destruction of Knightmare frame.

And then there was the smell too. The sickly-sweet smell of the dead bodies was beginning to mingle with the sour smell of cordite and black smoke which, if he wasn't prepared for it, he'd probably end up vomiting. Even the choice to breathe through either his noise or mouth was occupying his mind, between either smelling it or tasting it as the wind shifted.

The sound of someone letting loose with a fire extinguisher drew Ciaran's attention as he saw a trio of soldiers spraying the burning machine down with foam, while Lieutenant Fick and Sergeant-Major Reynolds walked towards him.

"Fick, Reynolds." The Briton said, nodding his head towards the two men as they came closer to him. "What's the word?"

"Light casualties, sir." The lieutenant responded. "Two men down with light bullet wounds, while one's down with fragmentation injuries."

"Who are the men?" Ciaran asked.

"Private Casters, Corporal Jackson and Private Morrison respectively, sir." Fick replied. "Bryan and Peterson are treating them now, but there's nothing to worry about."

Three men injured. "And how many men did this place have again?"

"About twenty men, sir."

One platoon of infantry, so twenty-four men (not including himself or the lieutenant) against twenty men, at the maximum, with three of his men injured.

Fucking astounding odds.

"So, what's next, sir?" Reynolds asked, interrupting the smile that was about to form on the young man's face.

"Well, first off: we need to try and identify who these people were, if we can." Ciaran answered, quickly regaining his professional composure. "So, push some of the men out in to a perimeter while the rest get started on getting the bodies sorted. We should also collect the weapons."

"Should we try and look for some intel in the huts?" Fick asked, gesturing with his head towards one of the square abodes.

"After we've done all this. We can't be sure if they were booby-trapped or not." The young man replied. "Also, keep an eye open for any spider holes. There could be weapons or equipment caches around."

"Yes, sir!" The soldiers responded before they turned around and left Ciaran to his own thoughts.

Putting his hands on to his hips, the young man watched as the two men went giving the new orders and they went about carrying out those orders. He knew that they would carry them out well, but he felt a bit left out in all the post-action quiet.

Seeing a small group of Pathfinders moving around one of the huts, the captain decided to move forward and join them. As he walked forward, he kept his rifle in his hands while his eyes kept watch on the edge of the forest. He knew that the sentries were more than up to the task for giving a warning of an enemy attack, but it never hurt.

"Friendly coming up on your six." Ciaran said as he approached the trio of soldiers, two of whom were standing while one was kneeling over what looked like a prone body. "What's so interes- oh, that's not pretty."

What had got the soldiers interest was the bloodstained, body of a young Japanese man, dressed in a black uniform. Or at least it was the top half of one. Everything past the dead man's stomach was a horribly burnt mess of spilled guts and blood that seeped out from the jagged stump of his lower torso. From the looks of it, he had been hit by a twenty-millimetre high-explosive shell. But it was funny that, considering how violent the man's death had obviously been, his face was quite serene. If one ignored the blood splatter and cuts.

"Now that's fucking cool." One of the soldiers quipped, sounding genuinely impressed, which prompted Ciaran and the other three soldiers to turn their heads and look at him in shock. "What?"

"That's fucking sick, dog." A dark-skinned sergeant said in disgust, prompting the first soldier to retort.

While this was going on, Ciaran crouched down, bringing him closer to the cadaver. After quickly overcoming the smell of the dead body, he looked intently at the clothes that the body was wearing. It was a black double breasted jacket, with grey, or dark blue-grey, panels on his shoulders. It looked far too fashionable to be an actual combat uniform, looking more like a dress uniform.

"This guy was a Black Knight." He said with a sudden realization, before he reached forward and snapped open the man's jacket.

"How can you tell, sir?" Asked the sergeant as Ciaran went about opening the dead man's clothing.

"Because," He replied as he peeled off the jacket, the sickly sound of blood slick fabric peeling from flesh hitting his ears and making him grimace. "I've had the pleasure of seeing this sort of uniform up close. And it's hard to forget."

Reaching in to the open jacket, the Briton tried rooting around, trying to find and sort of hidden pocket. Anything that could hold any form of identification or something. But none turned up.

"Well, that was a waste of effort." Ciaran said in annoyance as he let the clothing go from his hands. "Anyone got a camera or something?"

This earned a snicker from the first soldier. "Now who's sick, sergeant?"

"It's so we can take a photo of his face, numb-nuts." The third soldier, who Ciaran finally recognized as Corporal Lilley replied snappily, before turning to look at the captain. "Uh, right, sir?"

"Right." The Briton replied as he pushed himself to his feet, wiping his hands on his sleeves. "If we can get the picture to intelligence, we can figure out who this guy was."

"And then what?" The sergeant asked, earning a shrug.

"Then they'll do what they do, I guess."

"I'll take care of it, sir." Lilley said as he reached in to one of the pouches on the back of his belt, withdrawing a sleek looking silver camera.

Deciding to leave the group to their work, Ciaran moved off without a word, choosing a path that would take him towards Villetta's parked helicopter. This gave him ample time to think about what the body of the black uniformed man meant. If Cornelia's claim about having wiped out the other insurgent groups were true (which this engagement had proven to be a claim only), then Zero must have been trying to recruit this group to his cause.

Looking around at the bodies that the men were moving in to neat ordered rows, he saw that a lot of the bodies were wearing drab green combat uniforms, meaning that the men had to have been remnants of the JLF. That went some way to explaining why they had the Burai, but that didn't explain why there was a good number of bodies dressed in civilian gear.

' _This doesn't add up._ ' Ciaran thought to himself. ' _Militarised insurgent groups don't readily accept irregular civilian fighters out of hand. The JLF must be desperate for reinforcements._ '

"Something on your mind, Ciaran?" Villetta's question came as a bolt from the blue, making him stop his feet. Looking up in surprise, he saw that he was standing directly beside Butcher 100. It's side door was open, with the three injured men gathered around it; two sitting on the ground while one sat on the floor of the helicopter's open door, with CMT Bryan kneeling beside them and Villetta leaning against the open cockpit door. "What had you so deep in thought?"

Looking back, the young man gave a quick glance over the area behind him before turning back to look at the tawny-skinned lieutenant. "Just... I'll tell you about it later. So, what's the word, Bryan?"

"They're walking wounded, sir." Bryan said, shaking his head. Like the others, he was dressed in the same combination of gear and camouflage, but underneath his helmet, which sat in the hull of the helicopter, he was wearing a woodland camouflage bandanna wrapped around the top of his head. "Corporal Jackson has the worst of it from the wood fragments, but nothing that won't stop him returning to duty quickly."

Ciaran nodded his head as he smiled at the news. "Good to hear. I'll be sure you guys get a case of beer each."

This news earned a small cheer from the three injured men and a happy smile from Villetta.

"Hey! Over here! Medic!"

The cry shocked the two officers and the medic in to action as Ciaran pulled his rifle from behind him in to his hands while Villetta reached in to the cockpit and withdrew a combat submachine gun from a concealed compartment before the trio rushed towards the source of the voice.

As they moved quickly over the battle-scarred field, the Briton saw a group of soldiers, all with their weapons aimed at something on the ground. Although from the presence of CMT Peterson kneeling and working frantically, he could take a guess what was going on.

Forcing his way through the press of bodies, Ciaran saw that he was correct.

Lying on the ground were two injured Japanese men, one wearing the drab green of the JLF and the other in a mix of civilian and military gear. The latter was breathing heavily and loudly through his teeth, his hand holding tightly to his abdomen while the other was breathing shallowly, but from the looks of the bloodstained bandages wrapped around his chest, Ciaran could only take a guess about how bad the injuries were.

"We found these two buried under a hut wall, sir." Pappy said, his own rifle trained on the men as he turned his head to look at the captain. "They weren't armed, but we're not being careless."

Bryan suddenly spoke up. "Captain. Permission to help CMT Peterson, sir."

Even though it was phrased as a question, Ciaran knew that the older man wasn't asking for permission. Turning his head to look at the two injured men however, the young man knew that even he had no intention of denying the request.

"Do it." The Briton said flatly, moving to the side gently as Bryan moved past him before kneeling and getting to work on the wounded enemies. "Talk me through it, you two. How bad are the injuries?"

"Severe secondary injuries caused by laceration from fragmentation and explosive damage." Peterson said clinically. At the raised eyebrow from the captain, the medic reached forward and moved aside some of the bandages on the injured insurgent's chest, revealing the extent of the man's injuries and making practically everyone groan out in disgust.

The skin had been almost literally ripped away on the man's chest, revealing the bright white bone underneath. Even some of the muscle had been torn away, letting everyone see the man's lungs and hearts, all bruised and discoloured, beating slowly trying to keep the man alive.

"Sir, I can't keep him alive here. If we want him to live, we need to casevac him immediately."

Bryan spoke up, adding the diagnoses of his own patient next, making Ciaran turn to look at him. "Same with mine, sir. He's been zipped by seven-point-six-two. I can keep him stable, but I can't remove the bullet here."

Crouching down, Ciaran let out a steady breath as he looked at the two bodies. The man in the mix of civilian and military gear, who was quite a young man now that the Briton got a better look at him, probably only a few years older than he was, let out a loud groan of pain, nearly dislodging his hands from his chest before Bryan quickly put them back on tightly.

That was all he needed to see.

"Bryan, Peterson, stabilise them as best you can. Then put them on Butcher 1-5." Ciaran ordered as he pushed himself to stand upright. "I'm ordering an immediate casevac for these two. Villetta, send a message back to the palace. Tell them to prepare for two priority casualties."

The order was not immediately followed, as the soldiers and the silver-haired noblewoman looked at him in surprise.

"What?"

"Ciaran, do you know what order you just gave?" Villetta asked before she answered her own question. "You ordered us to give two insurgent fighters- two terrorists- to be given medical aid. In the Viceroy's own palace!"

He let out a slow breath before he turned to look at his lieutenant. "You were in the same meeting as I was, weren't you, Miss Villetta?"

The noblewoman blanched slightly at the use of her more official title before she answered. "Of course, I did."

"Then you'll know what General Darlton said about taking in injured enemy combatants after an operation, correct?" His voice was steadily getting harder as he spoke.

"... I... I do."

"THEN PUT THEM. ON. THE. FUCKING. HELICOPTER! NOW!"

The force of Ciaran's voice surprised himself, but the look of fear and shock on Villetta's face really told him how forceful his voice was.

"At once, Captain Forsyth." She said flatly before she turned back and quickly ran towards the gunship in question, leaving him alone with the Pathfinders and medics who looked at him in shock as he fought to get his breathing down to normal.

"I think we'll chalk that down to stress, sir." Bryan said sympathetically from his kneeling position.

After getting his breathing under control, Ciaran turned to look at him. "Aye. Do you need me for anything, Doc?"

The medic shook his head. "No, it's all right. Pappy can help me out."

Ciaran nodded his head before turning to the sergeant. "Carry on, sergeant."

"As you say, captain." Pappy responded, nodding his own head before the Briton moved away and headed back to the helicopters.

As he was walking back, he put a hand up to his forehead to try and get a grip of why he had just done that. He knew that he had only technically snapped at Villetta once and that was at Narita when she was with the Purists, but it was nowhere near on the level as he had just done right now.

It had to be the stress, he told himself. The after-effects of the noise from the high explosive rounds, the SLRs and the helicopters in action, which combined with the confined space of the forest and the shock-heavy nature of the attack had left his nerves slightly frayed.

He knew he had to apologise after all this was done.

Deciding that he would be of little use for the mop-up, Ciaran decided to take a rest on Butcher 100 with the three wounded soldiers, who were chatting amicably. Deciding not to interrupt them, the Briton moved around the back of the helicopter and sat down on the lowered rear ramp.

Resting on the metal surface, making sure that his rifle was at the ready on his lap, the young man took a swig from the plastic hose attached to his body armour, filling his mouth with water as he looked at the scenery around the edge of the clearing. It was amazing how a simple change in perspective could give an area an entirely different look.

The birds that usually lived in the area weren't coming back any time soon, but the carrion birds were beginning to circle the area, hoping for the prospect of an easy meal.

How many more times would Ciaran see that sight, he wondered. The black birds circling overhead while palls of dark smoke reached up in to sky and the smell of cordite and blood filled the air.

A strong gust of wind blew past his ankles before the sounds of a jet rotor coming to life filled the clearing. Moving from his perch, the young man look around the corner to see Butcher One-Five lifting in to the air before turning in the direction of the Settlement and flying off.

Seeing the helicopter in flight brought his mind back to the birds circling above them. He had always liked birds, especially the birds of prey that his mum would point with delight when they travelled around Britain's roads.

But the shape of the gunship flying in to the horizon was eerily similar to that of a bird of prey, especially as it banked to the left which caused its profile to be an almost exact mirror of that of a soaring buzzard or hawk. And it made him shiver.

He could have said something poetic to reflect on the new nature of conflict that he himself had brought to Area 11, the new way in which hundreds of Japanese would die by either his own command or the command of the Britannians and possibly handfuls of his own men would die and be replaced by new faces.

But he didn't have time for any of that, he thought as he pushed himself to stand on his feet. He had a mess to help clean up.

* * *

 **AN: And chapter 28 is up! And brought to you from my brand new Lenovo 310 Ideapad! Wahoo! And just before Christmas too. Slightly shorter than the other chapters, but I'm afraid that if I had made it to the same length of the other ones, then it would mean there would be no December release.**

 ***sigh* It really seems that each chapter is presenting new and more challenging problems for me to deal with. This one was trying to get stuff written down when I had to deal with the temptation of playing Empire, Napoleon and Warhammer: Total War, PLUS reading two new mangas and a new anime AND working as well. Still, it's up.**

 **Oh, and also, about the announcement of the third series of Code Geass: That series will have no bearing on the ending of A Brave New World. I had planned this to follow the story line of the original two series, and I will not deviate from that plan. Plus, I really cannot see how they can recover from that (and I freely admit this) pretty shoddy ending (which is what happens when you spend too much money on too short a series. I'm series, if they had made the series' longer than 24 episodes, so many problems could have been fixed).**

 **The bit with the politicians is really to show that Ciaran really might be a bit more out of his depth than he'd had thought, since dealing with prisoners is a whole different kettle of fish to fighting an enemy. Also, by law, during a insurgency in a civilian population, the police does take jurisdiction with prisoners (that's why the Ulster Constabulary had such problems during The Troubles), but if I had just left it at that, then it would kind of make some bits about the Fireforce as it's being used in A Brave New World useless, so I had to technically bend the law. Will that bite Ciaran and co in the arse in the future? Maybe, maybe not.**

 **Also, it will come up in a very near future chapter, but using a battalion formed from a single company for such a high intensity combat mission really is unfeasible. Which is something that the characters will note and try and work around.**

 **Fun fact too: the grid-zone designation? That is for a real place in Japan. c: Although I did have to take some severe liberties with the Japanese geography. Ah well. Different world anyway, so it'll work fine.**

 **Not much else to say on this chapter now. So I hope that all of you have a merry Christmas (or whichever religious holiday you celebrate at this time of year) and a safe and happy New Year.**


	29. Chapter 29

The first combat operation of the 332 Battalion in Area 11, from start to finish, took just over four hours to complete. The decision to use Butcher One-Five to casevac the heavily injured JLF fighters back to the Palace had shorthanded the operation a bit, but the size of the Valkyrs meant that the men could squeeze all the captured weapons, the bodies of the eleven dead insurgents and anything they thought to be of importance in to the gunships and still have room left over for themselves.

The decision was made for the buildings that still stood to be demolished, so grenades were used to blow the structures apart. This was decided since the small insurgent group Griffin Two-Two Alpha and Butcher One-Four had been tasked to hunt down had scattered to the four winds and there was no feasible way for the four-man team and the single gunship would be able to hunt the enemy down.

"If the enemy don't have a base to come back to, they'll have to shack up with any other groups in the area," Ciaran rationalized to Villetta and Fick. "Hunting them down with only one stick and gunship would just see us wasting too much time and fuel. So let them run. Besides, if they tell the others that they were wiped out by the Britannians, that might frighten the others quite a bit."

The decision to return to the Palace was taken readily, although some coldness was noted between the Briton and the silver-haired lieutenant as she carried out the order to prepare the squadron of gunships to transport the battalion back to the Viceroy's Palace. Butcher One-Five had already left, carrying the battalion's two medics and their casevac which left the unit short-handed.

For the original Fireforce, that would have been a problem. But fortunately, the Valkyrs attached to the units had an increased carrying compartment over the helicopters used by the Rhodesians. It took a bit of shuffling, especially with nearly a dozen body bags, bags filled with enemy weapons and documents that were considered important and the soldiers themselves, but eventually all the men managed to fit in.

Inside the helicopters, the soldiers were buzzing with excitement over the mission's success. Even the wounded men were happy about being injured in the operation, taking their injuries like a badge of honour. Tales of hits were tossed back and forth, being either encouraged or derided by their fellow soldiers.

The only one who was silent for the whole trip was the young captain, who kept himself busy by taking out the magazines from his rifle and pistol before simply sitting in his seat by Butcher One-One's rear door. He made no attempt to converse with the men except for small-talk and minor reports with the stick leaders via his radio.

* * *

Standing in the hangar, her arms placed behind her back underneath her large robe, Cornelia waited for the members of 332 Battalion to return to the Palace. While she wouldn't readily admit to it, she had been steadily monitoring the combat mission through the Palace's command and control centre, accompanied by only Darlton and Guilford of course.

She had overheard everything: the exit from the hangar, the flight to the target area, the first shots being fired, the resulting combat and the clean-up operation.

She knew that she had no real business basically eavesdropping on the mission. Cornelia knew that Ciaran was not someone who would do anything too brash on something so important (she had finally come to terms with what he had done at Narita which, since it happened after the battle, was an exception), so she should have left the young man to it.

But in truth, she had two reasons for listening in on the radio traffic. Firstly, it was professional curiosity. To learn how the interaction between the soldiers on the ground and the aerial gunships was carried out, the use of their call signs and the way that the attack was orchestrated in real-time. All the things she would have to know herself if the Fireforce was going to be used in greater frequency after this.

And secondly, there was her own personal curiosity. A platoon was the largest force that the Briton had been in charge of and that had been a solely infantry force. A combination of aerial gunships and infantry was something completely different to command. Cornelia could not deny that Ciaran had come far as an officer, but this was a real test of his abilities. Yet, she felt that it was only right for him to be the one to lead the operation.

Roughly an hour in to the operation though, she had become worried when the call had come through for Butcher One-Five to head back to the Palace with two critical casualties and a request for medical aid to be put on standby. Two was an incredibly low number of casualties for a new operation, but the Second Princess couldn't help the worry that welled up in her at the mention.

"Someone get me in to contact with the pilot of Butcher One-Five. Now." She had commanded sternly. "I want to know who the casualties are."

"It's not Ciaran." Guilford said softly, keeping his voice down so that the others in the C-and-C room to hear him.

"How do you know that?" She hissed out in reply. "You know that's not the sort of information that they'll reveal."

"Because I truly think that it'll take more than an enemy bullet to bring that man down." Her Knight responded warmly, a smile on his face.

Looking at the man beside her, Cornelia couldn't help but return the smile he gave to her. There was some truth in his words. Every time the world tried to bring him low, the Briton always somehow managed to evade it.

"I have Butcher One-Five on the horn, Princess." Darlton said, holding a radio handset in his hand out for her to take.

She had backed herself in to a corner now, so she reached over, taking the handset and placed it to her. "Butcher One-Five, this is Overlord. Status on your casualties. Over."

"Overlord, this is Butcher One-Five. We have two critical casualties: two Elevens sustaining serious causalities We are fifteen minutes out."

"Copy that, Butcher One-Five." Cornelia said in to the headset. "Medical staff will be waiting for you when you arrive. Over and out."

Handing the handset back to the general, she gave the order for medical staff to be sent to the hangar in preparation before she sat down in the chair in front of the holographic display of the area around the Tokyo Settlement.

"It's still such a weird thing, taking wounded insurgents in and giving them aid." Cornelia had noted, looking intently at the board.

"Well," Darlton said dropping the tone of his voice a bit as he leant against the table surface. "Ciaran did say that in his world, the Rhodesians did take in injured insurgents and turn them to their side. And to be fair, it never hurts to get some extra information."

The Second Princess had nodded her head in reply as she watched over the display in front of her. The lack of an attack by Zero at the end of the cease-fire had really rankled her, since the man had seemed to take almost every opportunity that he could to try and take out a member of the Royal Family, so she'd have thought that he would have done something to attack the Palace.

Inaction was something that bothered her greatly. Being an Imperial Princess, the Second Princess at that, as well as the Lord Marshal of Britannia, she was always kept busy with matters either military or civilian, even if she did delegate some matters to Euphemia or Guilford. She was a commander who lead her men, even in her Knightmare or in her G-1, so to merely be listening to the battle reports was not natural to her.

Deciding to do something productive, she went over the list of reinforcements that would be arriving from Britannia.

The first and most important were the infantry. Coming from the Homeland was nine battalions of infantry. Unfortunately, only three of them would be considered veterans; the 23rd Royal Welsch Fusiliers, the 114th Montreal Fencibles and the 112th Glengarry Light Infantry. She'd have liked some more regiments that were proven in combat, but three battalions that were already bloodied from the European Front was good enough.

Next was the armoured elements. Four battalions of Royal Panzer Infantry were being sent other. But again, only one of these four battalions would be considered 'veteran'; the 17th/21st Lancers. They'd been heavily battered during the fighting in North Africa and had been sent back to the Homeland for refitting and reinforcement, and fighting a relatively small (on the scale used to describe the conflicts the Britannian Empire was presently engaged in) conflict was considered to be a good way for them to get back in the swing of things.

After that came the support elements: one full regiment from the Royal Artillery, the 26th Royal Horse Artillery, and three battalions from the Royal Corps of Engineers.

She had discounted any Royal Britannian Navy ships and any Royal Marines from her list of reinforcements. Even with a force of the Royal Marines on standby at the naval base in Yokosuka, she didn't want to risk the numbers that she had using them in open combat, especially if that meant using up the already small number of Knightmares attached the Royal Marine Infantry. The few ships that were there were too vulnerable to risk leaving unattended.

So, until such a time as reinforcements were fully entrenched, 332 Battalion would have to be both the rapier and buckler of Britannian rule in Area 11. Luckily, that would only be for a few more days at the least.

The sound of the radio crackling to life again drew Cornelia's attention away from the lists of regiments, men and equipment, as Ciaran's voice came through.

"Overlord, this is Griffin Actual. Mission complete. We're coming home. ETA twenty-five minutes. Over and out."

Smiling happily, Cornelia stood up from her seat and turned to look at her two compatriots.

"Shall we take the long way down?" She asked, drawing confirmatory nods from both men before she led them towards the elevator.

Because of the size of the Viceroy's Palace, there were many elevators installed. Some had a direct line from one place to another, others were more mundane in operation. Taking the direct elevator that ran from the command-and-control room straight down to the garage and hangar would have only taken five minutes. Instead, using several elevators, the trio took fifteen minutes to get to the main hangar.

Deciding that it wouldn't do well for the Third Princess and her head staff to be seen milling around for near on ten minutes, they decided to make a small inspection of the personnel that were in the hangar, specifically the crew of gunship Butcher One-Five. For a good while, she and General Darlton talked with the aviators of the gunship about the action and the performance of the gunships and the soldiers on the ground. While their view was one that both senior officers wanted to hear, they wanted to hear the British-born captain's views on the Fireforce.

After hearing what they wanted to hear, the trio parted ways before moving to an unoccupied area that faced the entrance to the hangar while keeping them out of the way of any passing vehicles, which is where they are found now, waiting for the Fireforce unit to return.

"Here they come." Darlton said simply, his head turned to face the large entrance to the Palace hangar, just as the noise of the gunships engines reached her ears, the noise faint but still clearly identifiable.

After probably half a minute of waiting, the first of the Valkyrs entered through the portal, moving at quite a slow distance for a machine of its bulk as it hovered towards it's designated landing spot. Guided in by a technician carrying a pair of light batons, the large machine turned in the air, it's bow facing towards the middle of the hangar before it lowered down to the floor, it's landing gear making it bounce slightly as it touched down on the opposite of Butcher One-Five in the area marked for the Valkyrs to be stationed.

Quickly on its heels, the other four attack craft from Butcher Squadron flew in to the hangar, moving to the left flank of the lead helicopter, hovering over the parking bays before they pirouetted to face front and descended to the floor.

For a few more seconds, the air inside the hangar sounded like the inside of a miniature hurricane. Many of the technician crews nearby, including Cornelia and her staff, had to duck their heads to shield their faces from the maelstrom winds before, finally, the coaxial rotors ceased their spinning.

At the rear of each gunship, the boarding ramp dropped to the floor, followed by the occupants of the helicopters exiting the crafts before they proceeded to move towards the front of the vehicles. Moving with professional speed and silence, the members of Alpha Platoon of 332 Battalion formed up by fireteam in front of the gunships. Although from the corner of her eye, Cornelia saw three of the woodland uniformed soldiers being helped moved aside by medical orderlies.

Deciding to wait until everyone in the operation had moved to assemble before her, Cornelia watched quietly as the young Briton, standing front and centre of the assembled soldiers, quick marched to stand in front of the group of high ranking Britannians. When he was no less more than a yard in front of the Second Princess, he threw his right hand up to his forehead in salute.

"Alpha Platoon, 332 Battalion, returning from enemy contact, Lord Marshall." The young man said, his camouflaged features kept impassive as he spoke to his superior officer.

"Glad to have you back, Captain Forsyth." Cornelia said in the tone she had when talking to junior officers who had done well without showing an undue favour. "How was the action?"

Ciaran gave a small shrug in reply. "Not much to say. We found, we went, we beat them."

"Casualties?" General Darlton asked.

"On our end, sir; three lightly wounded. On their side; eleven dead, two seriously wounded currently receiving medical attention, four bolted."

That made Guilford arc an eyebrow in question, but Cornelia quickly cut him off. "We'll discuss that later. With your permission, Captain, I'd like to speak to your battalion."

Taking a step back and to the side, the young man held a hand out to his side, gesturing to the assembled soldiers and aircrews. "The battalion is all yours, Your Highness."

Nodding her head, the purple-haired royal walked past the young captain, leaving him alone with the two older Britannian males. Walking forward, the sound of her heels striking the floor of the hangar, Cornelia took in the sight of the soldiers in front of her: each man stood at attention, with their weapons slung at their chests, barrels down. Each man's face was heavily camouflaged while their gear was still the mismatched combo of woodland uniforms and pouches against grey Kevlar vests.

Still, she could not deny that they were a threatening looking force.

Stopping short of the group, Cornelia puffed up her chest slightly before she spoke.

"Everyone; stand easy."

A quiet shuffling sound filled the air as the Pathfinders and aviators shifted their stance, moving their feet to a shoulder width apart.

"Soldiers and airmen of Britannia; I know that all of you have been bloodied in combat before, but I also know that this is the first time that any of you have ever taken part in an operation such as this."

She paused to let her words sink in.

"However, I can say with great confidence that you have all acquitted yourself, and your battalion, perfectly."

A ghost of her smile came to her lips as she continued speaking, her hands coming up to reinforce her point dramatically.

"You have shown me and my senior staff that this style of combat does work and can bear fruit. And I know, that with your help, we can bring down justice on to the heads of these rebels and wipe them clean off the map!"

Cornelia let her words reverberate around the room, letting them sink in before she spoke again.

"You have only had one trial by fire with this new doctrine, but this is only the tip of the iceberg, and you know as well as I that there are many more enemies to face. However, your success today has shown myself and my staff that this will work, so we will all continue to hone the Fireforce to a fine edge so that we may finally bring the Black Knights and that snake Zero to justice."

Cornelia moved her hands behind her back as she lowered her tone of voice a tad.

"However, since you have all performed so well today, you are all on R-and-R for the rest of the day. Is that all right with you, Captain?"

The young Britain nodded his head. "It is perfectly all right with me, My Lady."

"Very well then." Cornelia said with a nod as she turned back to face the assembled platoon. "First Platoon. You are dismissed."

Turning around, the Second Princess walked towards where her senior officers were gathered.

"Sergeant Major Reynolds!" Ciaran bellowed out. "Dismiss the men."

Behind her, Cornelia heard the man in question call out before the sound of feet stamping together before shuffling off.

When she reached her group, the Princess looked at Ciaran blankly. "Ciaran, your debriefing will be in my office, now."

A look of shock came to the young man's face. "Umm… can't I go for a shower first. I mean, I'm covered in sweat and dirt and camoufl-"

"There'll be time for that later," Cornelia said, cutting the Briton's words short. "I want to hear your after-action report in person, now."

The look of confusion didn't leave the Briton's face, so the Princess decided to give him a bone.

"I'll have the maids prepare somethings to help you wash your face."

Giving her best disarming smile, Cornelia saw the look of confusion drop from Ciaran's face to be replaced with a more placated look before he nodded his head.

Without saying a word, the group headed towards the elevator that led in to the Palace proper. As they walked towards the elevator bay, the sound of welding gear and angle grinder's in use caught her ears, and drew the attention of the young Briton.

"What's going on?" Ciaran asked as he turned to look in the direction the noise was coming from, an area currently partitioned off by walls made from wheeled metal plates.

"Well," Darlton said, stepping beside the smaller man, "You definitely gave us some good information in your essay. Especially in one area which I honestly feel has been neglected too much, especially here in Area 11."

Not helping herself, Cornelia rolled her eyes at the comment before she decided to elaborate on the topic.

"Patrolling in the ghettoes is usually something left to the police, but the fear that the Black Knights would attempt to ambush either them or the military forces who would go in, is something that needs to be properly addressed."

Motioning her hand towards the area, the purple-haired princess smiled again.

"Go and have a look."

Stepping quickly but cautiously, he moved toward the cordoned off area, followed by the Princess and her two officers. Coming around the corner of one of the moveable walls, the quartet emerged to the sight in front of them.

Nearly three dozen men were swarming over the skeletal chassis of what looked like a trio of large, six-wheel transport trucks, stripped down to the axles and floors of the vehicles. Plates were being welded together to form various structures around a series of sectional frames; V-shapes, long rectangular hulls intersected with small panels of reinforced glass, large doors and other various parts that made up a vehicle's frame.

"What are they making?" Ciaran asked, looking around the area in surprise.

"I think if you guessed, you'd probably be right, Ciaran." General Darlton said with a smirk as he watched the young man move closer to one of the frames.

Stepping forward, the Briton moved to stand near to the metallic skeleton. Cornelia watched as he peered intently at the construction, the closest wheel coming up to his waist, further reinforcing the size of the machine.

After a few seconds of simply running his hands over the exposed metal, Ciaran suddenly turned around to look at the trio of Britannians.

"It's an MRAP." He said in astonishment, a wide smile on his face.

"Bingo." Darlton said smiling as well. "While R-and-D had toyed with the idea before, but the ideas were quite simple: raising the ground clearance of the vehicle while reinforcing the floor. But to use the V-shaped hull? It's simple but not something the eggheads really thought of."

"But I thought that Cornelia had said that vehicle was already being built." The Briton asked in confusion, looking at Darlton.

"It… kind of got blown up." The scarred general said with a shrug. "So, we're starting again."

Ciaran looked ready to open his mouth to speak again, but Cornelia wanted to move things along quickly.

"Captain, I'm getting impatient here." She said testily.

"My apologies, Your Highness." The young man said apologetically, putting his arms by his side again before bowing his head. "Lead the way."

Turning smartly on her heels, Cornelia marched past her Knight and General before heading towards the elevator bank.

The group didn't say anything else as they entered the metal box and began their ascent in to the Palace proper before moving towards the Viceroy's office. When they were in the room, Cornelia quickly removed her large cloak before handing it off to Guilford.

"Before anything else, I want to say this now, Ciaran." She said as she moved around and sat behind her desk. "You did well out there. A platoon of infantry against an enemy force of near equal strength made up of infantry and a Knightmare and you get away with only three people injured? I don't think I've ever seen anyone pull off that result in such a short space of time of being given command. Kudos to you."

Ciaran nodded his head simply. "Thank you, Princess."

The older woman couldn't help but sigh. "Okay, what's on your mind?"

A look of genuine confusion came to the Briton's face. "What? No, nothing. Just… coming down from an adrenaline high."

The older woman narrowed her indigo-coloured eyes slightly at the comment before she carefully studied the Briton's face. Although it was hard to tell anything about him with his face covered by camouflage paint, but his body language didn't give any hints to say that he was in any sort of emotional distress.

Softly shrugging, Cornelia leaned back in her chair. "All right then, Ciaran. Since we monitored the mission from the C-and-C centre, we know the main details of the mission: when it started, first contact with the enemy and the resulting combat. But first things first: how did everything work?"

"Better than expected," The young man replied. "The speed of the Valkyrs is a definite boon, which outclasses the Knightmares when having to traverse difficult terrain. The twenty-mil chaingun does its work too. Villetta found that a combination of armour-piercing followed by high-explosive rounds work best against Knightmares.

"The seven-point-six-two rounds also more than prove their worth and the SLRs are brilliantly accurate. But that's where we hit a snag."

That piqued Cornelia's interest as she sat up more straight in her chair. If there was something that could hamper a mission, she had to know of it. "What sort of snag?"

Before Ciaran could reply, a small series of knocks sounded on the door before it opened and a woman with dark hair poked her head through.

"I have the towels and water bowl you requested, Your Highness." She said in a demure but unquiet voice as she moved through the threshold in to the room proper.

"Just bring them in, then you are dismissed. We won't need anything else for now."

Curtseying, the maid reached past the door and pulled a metal trolley in to the room along with a towel and various cleaning products. Moving quickly, she moved in to the room proper, stopping just beside Cornelia's three officers followed by curtseying once more before she left the room the way she came.

"Okay, continue, Ciaran." The Second Princess said, gesturing to the bowl.

"All right then," The young man responded as he began taking off his equipment and put them down on to the couch at the side of the room. "Firing the SLRs in semi-automatic is a good and accurate way to fight the enemy, but it leaves us with a shortcoming."

Ciaran stopped as he approached the bowl and dunked his cupped hands in to the bowl before bringing the water to splash against his face.

"We can't get enough lead downrange." He said, as the Princess watched him begin removing the camouflage paint from his face. "With the SLRs, we can only manage one round every time we pull the trigger which means, while meaning that each shot will be well placed, the sticks are dangerously short of fast aggressive firepower."

"How did your Rhodesians sort out that problem?" Cornelia asked, remembering that his world's Rhodesians were different to her world's Rhodesians.

The young man didn't reply for a few seconds, intent on scrubbing his face clean of the grease and paint. It didn't take long before he brought his cupped hands back up to his face to wash off the wettened paint. Cornelia couldn't help but snort in amusement at the image; the part around his nose and eyes were cleaned, but the outer periphery of his face and around his hair and beard line was still a very dark shade of green.

"Each stick was allocated a general-purpose machine gun," The Briton said flatly. "That did the job well. And yes, I know my face looks a mess. If you let me have a shower, you wouldn't end up with that smirk on your face."

Cornelia's eyes shot open and her mouth dropped slightly as she realised that she had been caught. She couldn't really deny that the situation was funny, even though the meeting was supposed to be serious.

Putting her hands down on to her desk as she looked at the young man, a small smirk still on her face.

"There'll be plenty of time for you to take a shower when this is over." The Second Princess said in a stern tone. "Now, was that the only problem you noted?"

Using the sleeve of his jacket, Ciaran wiped at the water dripping off his chin before he put his hands against his hips.

"Collecting the weapons from the quarter-master takes too long." He replied simply. "From initial contact to enemy to getting our weapons to boarding the gunships, we waste around twenty minutes, which, combined with the time of travel to the last known enemy position, leaves too much time for the possibility of the enemy catching wind of us and scarpering.

"Which leads me on to the third snag; launching from the Viceroy's Palace means that we can only operate in the areas immediately surrounding the Tokyo Settlement. Even with the Valkyrs range, that still leaves a HUGE portion of the island unchecked. If we're going to operate across the whole of Area 11, we'll need to establish firebases and observation posts for us to stop over at to refuel, rearm and rest before sortieing out again.

"Which finally leads us to the final problem: manpower." At this, Ciaran let out a small sigh at what he was about to say. "Cornelia, I fully appreciate you giving me a battalion of my own to command, but a single company is not enough. Especially if we end up facing the same number of fighters as we did this time. I need more men."

Cornelia couldn't help but let one of her eyebrows arc up in surprise.

"And this is coming from the same man who said that he could only handle a single platoon." She said in surprise. "Looks like you have matured."

In response, the young man crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at the Princess in mock incredulity. "You should know as much as anyone that this job forces you to mature quickly."

The purple-haired princess nodded her head slowly in agreement. "Indeed, it does. But, to answer your request, even though it wasn't phrased like one: I cannot give you more men."

"Why not?" Ciaran asked in reply.

"We don't have enough men here, Ciaran." Guilford answered for her. "After Narita, we've only got two full strength infantry battalions, along with one understrength battalion. Although that should technically be two, since 332 Battalion are quartered here too. Plus, add on the fact that we only have three Knightmare battalions at anything near battle ready strength after the restructuring, we are solely undermanned until the reinforcements arrive at the end of the week."

"I know the constraints for Britannian manpower, Lord Guilford." Ciaran said, nodding his head in acquiesce to the Knight's points. "But I'm not asking for you to take away from the Britannian manpower."

That answer was not something that Cornelia expected to hear. Or, more correctly, the phrasing of it, was not something she expected to hear.

"Ciaran, that question is… quite strange."

"All right, I'll phrase it differently then." The Briton said flatly. "Give me Honorary Britannians."

To Cornelia, she felt like she had just had a mild shock at what the person in front of her had just said, having no idea what to say.

"Come again?" She asked.

"Give me Honorary Britannians." Ciaran repeated flatly again.

Again, she had no idea how to react to what she had just been told. Darlton and Guilford were a little quicker on the uptake on how to respond.

"How many would you need?" The scarred general asked.

"Enough to make two full platoons, that's all I ask." Ciaran replied.

From her spot, Cornelia just looked at the young man in confusion before, despite herself, she began chuckling darkly, her hand coming up to her forehead as she shook her head in disbelief.

"What's wrong?" The Briton asked, seriously confused by what was going on.

Removing her head, the Second Princess looked up at him before she spoke coldly. "Ciaran, you're asking me to allow Honorary Britannians, Elevens, to fight alongside Britannians?"

A look of confusion came to the young man's face. "Why not?"

Letting out a simple sigh, Cornelia fixed Ciaran with a stare. "Because Honorary Britannians don't form mixed units with Britannians."

The confused look stayed on Ciaran's face as he processed what she had said. "But… that… that doesn't make sense? Cornelia, we need more men and if we wait until the reinforcements arrive from Britannia, we won't be able to capitalize on what this attack has given us."

"Ciaran, there's no argument here." Cornelia said simply and flatly. "We are not letting Honorary Britannians join the same units as Britannians."

The look of confusion fell as a neutral façade overtook his face. "We? Or I?"

"I don't appreciate your tone, captain." Cornelia said, staring directly at the Briton.

"It's a simple question." Ciaran said with a shrug, not taking his own eyes off the woman across from him. "I have zero problem with letting Honorary Britannians. So, the problem obviously lies with you."

"Problem?" Cornelia repeated incredulously, sitting more upright in her chair. "A 'problem'? Is that how you're calling it?"

"Well I certainly see it as one," The Briton responded, throwing up his arms in exasperation. "You're not letting my unit, the unit that you helped me create, operate to its full potential because of your own prejudices. So, yes, it's a bloody problem!"

"All right, let's calm down now." Darlton said in a placating tone, putting his hands up. "Let's not end up saying anything we'll both regret."

"I think we're past that point now, Darlton," Cornelia said pushing herself up from her seat to fully stand up. "To answer your question, Ciaran: no, I don't have a problem. If any one of us has a problem, it's you since you seem to have the inability to listen to simple bloody English; I will not have. Honorary Britannians. In a unit with Britannians. Is that clear?"

"Then you're a fucking idiot." Ciaran growled out, taking everyone by surprise.

"Watch your words carefully, _Captain_." The Second Princess growled out, putting extra emphasis on the young man's rank.

"I will not!" Came the barked response. "You have a perfect opportunity to strike a major blow to the Black Knights with propaganda and force, but instead you choose to let that chance slip away because of your own fucking petty beliefs!"

"You are out of line, Ciaran!" Cornelia snapped back, feeling her blood begin to boil quickly.

"No, you are out line, you stupid racist bitch!" Ciaran roared back angrily.

Before the young man could open his mouth again to speak, Cornelia's right hand was already moving rapidly before the resounding smack of her hand connecting with his cheek filled the room and the Briton's head snapped to the right, causing him to stagger slightly from the impact.

In the stunned silence that followed, the only sound that Cornelia could hear was the sound of her heavy breathing coming through her clenched teeth. She was oblivious to the looks of shock on Darlton's and Guilford's faces as she was focused on the man in front of her.

For his part, Ciaran recovered quickly, even with the bright red mark that covered a good portion of his left cheek and the slight watering of his left eye, as he moved to stand to attention.

"I feel that's the end of my report, Your Highness." He said stoically, even as his left eye twitched from the pain.

Managing to get her breathing under control slightly, she simply stared at him angrily. "You are dismissed from duty for today, captain. You will return to your room until I call for you. Now get out."

Nodding his head, Ciaran took a few steps back before he turned around fully and exited the room, shutting the door behind him. When he was done, Cornelia finally sat back down in her seat, her right hand stinging from the force of the slap.

None of the people in the room said anything as Cornelia gripped her hand and tried to rub out some of the pain.

"Cornelia," Guilford said finally. "Are you all right?"

"Forget about her." Darlton said, causing the pair to look up and see him still staring at the closed door. "What about Ciaran? Shouldn't we be asking him that?"

"He insulted Cornelia!" The bespectacled knight stated loudly. "A slap on the face is the least he should worry about."

"Yes, I am well aware of what he had said, Gilbert." Darlton responded icily, turning to look at the man. "But that response from Cornelia was completely uncalled for."

"What are you saying, Darlton?" Cornelia asked in confusion, turning to look at the scarred general. "How can you say that after what he just suggested?"

"He suggested a perfectly acceptable idea, Princess." Darlton said. "And you have also forgotten that, not only is he the youngest of us all and is going to be the most liberal of us, he is also _not_ from this world. So, of course he's going to have a different opinion on this."

The realisation of that fact hit Cornelia full force as she closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. "Of fucking course…"

Unperturbed, the general kept talking. "Now you know my thoughts on using Numbers in our forces; "Use every able body". So, I agree with Ciaran's assessment of the situation: he does need extra bodies in the battalion if he wants it to operate at its full potential. In fact, I think that if the battalion were to operate at full potential, then it should have more vehicles, more weapons and more men because I have faith in that young man."

Turning to look at Cornelia with a forlorn expression. "But… you are also my Lord Marshal, and I will always respect you and your decisions."

The Second Princess let out a sigh. "Yet you think that I'm wrong here."

From his place, the scarred general shrugged his shoulders. "It's not my place to say. But for the record, I think that could have been handled with a bit more tact. From both parties."

The look that was directed at Cornelia had been one that she had only seen him give when he was disappointed in a person's actions. She herself had only had the gaze levelled at her once in her training days when she had very badly failed at a training exercise. That had been nearly twelve years ago, and the look was just as bad now as it was back then.

"I'll go and talk to him about it later." She said resolutely. "I don't think either of us would be in any state right now to have a reasonable talk."

"Understood, Your Highness." Darlton said with a nod before he turned and headed to the door.

"Where are you going?" Guilford asked, looking at the man's back in confusion as Darlton opened the door.

"Just going to make sure he doesn't do anything else stupid." The general called out before he exited the room, closing the door behind.

Sighing again, Cornelia smiled fondly at the closed door. "I guess that age has its benefit."

Turning her head to look at her Knight, her mouth shifted to a forlorn smile. "Gilbert, would you be kind enough to leave me alone? I need some time to myself."

Nodding his head, Guilford took a step then leaned forward, placing a small kiss on to her head before he walked out of the room, leaving Cornelia in the room.

* * *

Sucking in shuddering breaths of air, Ciaran leant his shoulder against the wall as his left hand hovered over his stinging left cheek. His eyes watered up from the pain, his ear was ringing from the slap and he found it hard to keep his balance.

How in the seven hells can a person deliver such a hard slap? It felt like he'd been hit by a car rather than a person! And that was something he knew from personal experience.

Sucking in as much air as he could, he summoned his mental fortitude and pushed down the pain as he decided to head out to his room.

Which proved a task that was easier said than done, as he found out. Pushing himself from the wall, Ciaran was suddenly set upon by a serious case of dizziness. His field of vision began to swim and he felt nauseated before he moved himself back to lean against the wall, using the solid stone structure as support until the spell passed.

"Okay, okay." He said to himself in a low voice, forcing down any feelings of vomit he had. "You can do this."

Looking down the hallway he was in, he concocted a plan. It was nearly a straight shot from the Viceroy's office to his own room with only two corners to go around, so if he took it slow, he could make it without too much hassle. He would have to stick to the walls practically all the way, but then he'd have to think of something else when he came to the corners. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it though.

Keeping his left hand on the wall, he began walking forward. It was after a few steps though that another wave of nausea overcame him, forcing him to put his hand over his mouth.

"Ugh, this isn't gonna work." Ciaran groaned out.

The sound of light footsteps behind him preceded the sweet voice of probably the last person he wanted to see him in this sort of state.

"Ciaran! You're back!" Euphemia said happily, her footsteps quickening as she came up to him. "What are you doing out here though?"

Not wanting the girl to see what Cornelia had done to him, Ciaran turned his head to the side so that she could only see the right side of his face.

"Hello, Euphemia." He said genially, keeping the pain from coming in to his voice. "I just had a meeting with your sister."

"Oh really?" She asked. "So, what are you up to now?"

"Oh, not much." Ciaran replied with the best disarming smile he could muster. "Although I am feeling a bit tired after today, so she's letting me head to my room to rest. So… yeah, I'll talk to you again in a bit, okay?"

Before she could respond, the man turned his head and made to move on to his room. In a decidedly unwise move, Ciaran decided to not use the wall as a support. Which resulted in him nearly pitching sideways down to the floor.

A cry of shock came from behind him before Euphemia rushed to his side and managed to catch him.

"Ah! You are heavy!" She said loudly, before she pushed the Briton more upright. "Ciaran, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"It's fine, Euphemia." He said, trying to smile as he fought off the bought of dizziness that attacked him but he turned his head to smile at the young princess. "I'm just tired is all. But since you're here, could you-"

"Ciaran! You're hurt!"

Looking at the girl in shock, Ciaran saw that her face was locked directly on to the bright red bruise on the left side of his face.

"Oh, that." He said simply. "I got that earlier today. During combat. Just a… the shockwave from an explosive. Nothing serious."

He was readily bullshitting here. Ciaran knew that explosions could damage internal organs, but he had no idea whether it could solely bruise skin. But he was truly certain that Euphemia didn't know that.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Euphemia asked, helping push the Briton to stand upright. "It looks really painful."

"Yeah, it kind of is. But the doctors checked it out, and they said it's fine."

For a few seconds, the Third Princess merely looked at him as though she were studying him to see if Ciaran was lying before she nodded her head.

"All right then. Although you do look like you need some help." Euphemia said worriedly. "Do you want some help to your room?"

"Oh, I couldn't for you to do that." Ciaran said diplomatically, taking a step away from the princess, although she stopped short as he teetered a little bit, only stopping when the girl managed to catch him. "Although I'm not really in a state to say no."

Nodding her head, Euphemia wrapped her arms around Ciaran's right arm and the pair began walking down the corridor.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Briton let a thin smile come to his face as he looked at Euphemia. It would be almost impossible for him to imagine the pink haired girl acting violently. He couldn't even imagine her raising her voice in anger, even an octave, let alone physically lashing out at someone.

"So... how are things with you?" Ciaran asked out of the blue, hoping to try and avoid any more questions about his face.

Which, in the mysterious and sometimes downright sadistic way the universe worked, resulted in the complete opposite happening.

"Ciaran! There you are!" The baritone voice of General Darlton called out, the sound of his heavy footfalls coming up behind the pair.

Turning his head to look over his shoulder, the young man saw the tall man quick walking towards the pair, a look of quiet worry on his face.

"Hello, Darlton." Euphemia said happily.

"Hello to you, Princess Euphemia." The general said as he drew up to them. "I'm sorry but I had to look for your friend here."

Confusion played across Euphemia's face. "You did? Why?"

Looking directly at Darlton's face, Ciaran shook his head subtly, silently begging for the man not to say anything. That unfortunately proved all for naught though as Euphemia's next question didn't help the situation.

"Is it to do with Ciaran's face?"

Darlton nodded his head as an unsure look twisted his face. "Yes, it is, Your Highness."

Ciaran swallowed slightly as he saw Euphemia's eyes narrow slightly. "He didn't get the bruise in combat, did he?"

The general's black eyes flicked to the Briton's green-blue ones, both unsure of how to proceed.

"General Darlton." Euphemia said in a sterner voice. "How did Ciaran get his injury?"

Giving an apologetic look to the young man, Darlton let out a weary sigh. "He and your sister got in to an argument and she… slapped him."

For a few seconds, the Third Princess just looked at the general blankly for a few seconds before her eyes slowly grew wide in shock, snapping her head around to look at the man her arms were around.

"Why did she slap you?" She asked.

Deciding that he was deep down the rabbit-hole now, Ciaran relented. "We got in to an argument about me getting extra men for my battalion. Things got a bit heated and... I… called her something I won't really repeat."

"Wha… how did that happen if you were talking about the military?" Euphemia asked, truly confused by what she was being told.

"My idea was to use Honorary Britannians in the regiment alongside Britannians."

A happy smile broke out across Euphemia's face, even as her eyes still carried confusion in them. "But… that's a good plan, right?"

To their side, Darlton just shrugged his shoulders. "You know what your sister is like, Princess. But I think right now, we need to focus on Ciaran here. How are you feeling? Still angry?"

"Honestly? A little bit. But right now, I'm trying to focus on not falling over as I walk."

The scarred Britannian nodded his head as he moved closer to them. "Yeah, that slap did look painful. Do you need some help getting to your room?"

"It wouldn't hurt, sir." Ciaran said, nodding his head.

Stepping forward, Darlton gently prised Euphemia's arms from around the Briton's limb before, taking hold of the young man's own arms, he turned his own body around while simultaneously lifting Ciaran up and putting him on to his back in a piggy-back position.

"Hey!" The Briton cried out in shock, both at the sudden movement and the nausea that attacked him. "I am not a little kid."

"Answer me honestly, Ciaran." Darlton asked, turning his head slightly. "Could you have honestly made it all the way to your room just by walking?"

Ciaran fell silent as he thought over the answer. If the simple fact of him going only about a dozen feet from Cornelia's office resulted in a horrible mix of nausea and dizziness, then he wasn't positive about his prospects over reaching his room by foot, even if Euphemia helped him.

"Okay." He said finally, letting his head drop slightly. "But I'm not particularly happy about this whole thing."

"Noted." Darlton said, smiling slightly. "Now try and keep quiet. It'll help you a bit."

Nodding his head, Ciaran let his arms simply drop over the general's shoulders and chest before Darlton began walking down the hallway. It didn't surprise him to hear Euphemia jogging up behind them before falling in to step beside them.

"But why did Cornelia not agree with you on using Honorary Britannians in your unit?" She asked Ciaran.

"I don't think I'll be able to say without using phrases that you really can't repeat in front of royalty." The Briton said flatly.

"It was that bad?" Euphemia asked in shock.

"It was short but pretty brutal." Darlton said offhandedly. "And it was not something I think I'd ever expect to see from either of them. But to answer your question; I think you already know the answer, Princess."

Looking to the side, Ciaran watched Euphemia's face as she listened to the general's words. For a few seconds, she was silent before she nodded her head, turning her head back to the front.

"Umm… Am I missing out on something?" He asked in confusion.

"I think it best if Cornelia tells you herself, Ciaran." Euphemia replied sadly.

Not really in the mood to ask any more questions, the young man just let his head roll forward, coming to rest against the back of Darlton's head. To be honest with himself, he felt like crap. He had just yelled at Cornelia, probably the last person he wanted to verbally fight with, along with just feeling emotionally drained both from the combat and the experience of yelling at Cornelia.

He let out a weary sigh. "I'm starting to think being a commanding officer isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"To be honest, it's a lot easier than you think." Darlton said simply. "You just have the added bonuses of being from a different time and place than us and also having the Second Princess as your commanding officer. So, that's extra hassle for you."

The Briton didn't say anything just to grunt simply in response, so Darlton took that as a sign to continue speaking.

"Look, if it's any consolation: I agree with your plan."

That perked the young man up. "You do?"

Darlton turned his head slightly to the side and nodded his head. "I do. You need extra men, and if you have to wait for reinforcements to arrive from Britannia, then you'll be short-staffed. Plus, using native populations alongside non-natives in counter-insurgency forces works better than simply using Britannians."

"Thank you!" Ciaran responded, trying his best not to tip himself backwards off the man's back. "Why can't Cornelia see that?"

"It's not my place to say." The general replied. "Let's just say that she has her reasons, and we'll leave it at that."

This earned a snort from the young man before he said in a low tone. "It had better be a damn good reason…"

Suddenly, Darlton stopped walking before turning his head to look at the young man on his back, a dangerous glare in his eye. "Don't."

"What?"

"Don't talk down to the woman who took you in, who gave you security and a place to live. I know that you are angry at her, but _do not_ forget that."

The tone of Darlton's voice made Ciaran shrink back slightly, the hard glare from his black eyes reminding him of a look his own father would direct at him. Even looking to the side, he saw Euphemia looking at him with a look of quiet shame.

Cowed, he dropped his eyes to look at the floor before he spoke. "I'm sorry."

For a few moments, neither Britannian said anything before Darlton began walking again. "You're forgiven. But you will need to say that to Cornelia, you know that, right?"

Ciaran nodded his head. "Yeah, I know."

Falling in to silence, the young man let himself be carried to his room. Luckily, they didn't run in to any maids or guards on their way, so his embarrassment was lessened a good deal. Although the presence of Euphemia walking alongside them was a source of embarrassment in of itself.

It didn't take them too long to reach Ciaran's room, with Euphemia opening the room while Darlton let the young man on to the floor before helping him in to the room with a guiding hand. Now, the young Briton would have liked to use the bed to rest on, but because of the layout of the room, the couch facing the television was closer.

"Okay, now down you go." Darlton said, helping Ciaran sit down on the chair before easing him down on to his side. As soon as his head hit one of the cushions, he felt an immediate difference. It wasn't much, but he felt so much better for it.

"Do you think you'll be all right, Ciaran?" Euphemia asked, worriedly, earning a nod from the Briton.

"All right, if that's all," Darlton said, dusting his hands off. "I'll leave you alone. I know you said you're fine now, but I want to calm down fully. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." The young man replied. "And thank you for helping me out."

The general nodded his head by way of a reply before he exited the room, leaving Ciaran alone with a quite upset looking Third Princess standing by the couch.

"What's up?" He asked in genuine concern, as used to seeing the pink-haired princess upset as seeing her sister fuming, which wasn't very.

Not saying a word, Euphemia moved towards the couch before she sat down heavily, her hair and skirt bouncing slightly as she did so.

"Why is it so hard for people to be nice to each other?" She asked out of the blue, not turning her head to look at him.

Shifting his body around a little bit to look at her, Ciaran didn't really know what to say.

"Is this about me and Cornelia or her rejecting my idea?"

Euphemia shook her head, not looking at him. "One. Or both. I… I don't really know. It's just… I don't want people to be angry with each other anymore."

Internally, Ciaran immediately understood what she said. It was a wish that he had wished numerous times, and it was a question that he knew other people had done too.

Leaning as best as he could towards her, the young man put a hand on to her forearm, making her turn her head to look at the Briton.

"Euphemia," He said hesitantly, trying his best to phrase what he was going to say so as not to sound like he was talking down to people. "For twenty-one years, I have seen people carry out the worst things imaginable, because they fell in to the biggest traps of human nature: anger, jealousy and envy. Not just in my life-time but also throughout history."

The pink-haired princess looked at him in confusion, but she remained silent so Ciaran continued.

"But the main thing all those people had in common was that they were afraid, but they didn't want to admit it. Whether they're scared for themselves or scared for those they whole close to them, it's still the same. They want to protect something, either an idea, a person or a place."

Euphemia nodded her head, then moved to lie down next to Ciaran, which took him by surprise since there wasn't really much space. So, doing his best, he scooched himself back until he was fully pressed in to the back of the couch.

"Do you honestly think that Cornelia is one of those people?" She asked sadly.

Ciaran would have been deaf to hear the sadness in the young girl's voice, and it tugged at his heartstrings to hear someone so cheerful speak in such a way. Sighing softly, he moved to put and arm around her in a gesture of comfort.

"Yes. I do."

That seemed to be a good answer for Euphemia as she leaned back in to the hug, sighing happily. "So, you won't think too harshly of her?"

Staying quietly for her moment, Ciaran thought hard on how Cornelia had spoken to him, but he wasn't really sure what conclusion to draw from that. But he felt like he couldn't say no to her.

"I won't." He said simply, nodding his head, which had the effect of driving his head in to her head of hair.

That seemed to fill the princess with contentment as she nodded her own head, humming happily at his words before she replied, "Good."

Moving his arm off her, Euphemia sat upright before turning her head to look at Ciaran.

"I'm not happy that you two got in to a fight," She said morosely. "Especially since you two have gotten on so well together. But I'm glad that you don't think too harshly of her for it."

Again, mentally, Ciaran wasn't so sure what he really thought of Cornelia after their little spat, but for the sake of the young girl, he just nodded his head as he watched Euphemia stand up from her seat.

"Do you want something?" She asked.

"A can of pop will do." He replied. "I'm quite thirsty."

Nodding her head, the princess moved to the cabinet that held the television and leant down to open the lower half of the cabinet, before opening the minifridge held inside and retrieving a bright red can of cola. Turning around, she headed back to the reclining Briton and handed him the can.

"Since I don't think you'll be going anywhere," She said as Ciaran took the can from her hand. "I'll leave you to recuperate, so I'll see you later."

Smiling sweetly, she turned and headed towards the door, which confused the Briton.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

Opening the door, Euphemia stopped and looked at the man before she simply and sweetly said. "Just going to have a talk with my dear sister."

And with that, she closed the door, leaving Ciaran alone in his room. Absolutely confused by what he had just heard, the Briton decided that, since he couldn't really do anything right now, he might as well try and relax. Moving his body to sit upright, however, did little to alleviate the pain his head was in.

So, letting out an annoyed groan, he leaned back down and lay on to his side, using the cool can of cola as a makeshift cold-press.

"Well. This sucks." He said to himself forlornly.

* * *

The sound of her high-heeled boots filled Cornelia's ears as she made her way down to Ciaran's room. It had been just a little over ten minutes since she had had her argument with the young man, and just under five minutes since her little sister had frankly chewed her out for said argument.

God, but that was something she didn't want to remember. But it had happened. And it had worked brilliantly.

She honestly didn't think that Euphemia had had it in her to storm in to her office and, in front of Guilford no less, for her treatment of Ciaran. One sentence in particular stood out.

" _How can you treat him like that when you promised to take him and look after him? Not only as a soldier but as someone in our family?" Euphemia had loudly said, staring pleadingly at Cornelia from across her desk, her hands pressing down on to the wooden surface._

And Cornelia had to agree with her in part. She _had_ agreed to take Ciaran in and to take him in as a family member. But still, the young man had also willingly agreed to follow her as a subordinate officer in the military, her own Royal Guard too.

' _So he should have known that it was not his place to question me like that!_ ' She angrily said inside her head as she continued walking.

But he was, as Darlton pointed out, from a wholly different time and place to them. So what were the chances of him having views that aligned precisely with hers? At least they sort of lined up with Euphie's…

Stopping outside the door to Ciaran's room, Cornelia thought long and hard on what to say to him. He had laid out a perfectly reasonable suggestion, one that would work and she had up and turned it in to a shouting match. As if that wasn't enough, she then went and slapped him. Granted Ciaran did call her a… what was it again? A racist bitch? Yes, that was it.

Her hand still stung from it hitting his face. God, but she didn't want to imagine how hard it had must have hurt for him. And she did not need that chewing out from Euphie. That did not help her mood on the situation.

Reaching a hand up, Cornelia rapped her hand against the wood of the door before she quietly called out. "Ciaran? Are you in there?"

"Yeah, I'm in here." The Briton's voice came through from the other side of the door.

"Can I come in?"

"It's your palace." Came the reply.

Cornelia could not deny how much those three words stung her as much as they did, but she put that aside as she depressed the handle and pushed open the door, stepping in to the room.

A part of her did not really know what to expect, but to see the television on, blaring a simple kid's cartoon was not something she expected to see. But seeing the sullen form of Ciaran lying down on his side on the couch directly facing the TV with a hand over his left cheek was something she did expect to see.

"Hey." He said simply.

"Hey." Cornelia responded in kind as she closed the door behind her. "Are you okay? Euphemia sounded pretty distraught at what happened."

Ciaran nodded as a small but heartfelt smile came to his own face. "Yeah, she's a good one. But, no. I'm okay."

"Then why are you lying down?" The Second Princess asked as she moved towards him, a worried look on her face.

"Oh… well," Ciaran replied in a slightly worried tone. "Don't take this the wrong way but… you have a mean right hand."

"Huh?" Cornelia asked. "What do you mean?"

"Simply put: if I try and sit up, I feel like I'm going to be sick. I think you seriously knocked my equilibrium for six."

The purple-haired princess blinked in confusion at the man lying down in front of her before she looked down at her right hand. There was no way that it could have been that hard a hit, right?

But still, his head did snap round quickly and her hand did hurt a lot. And Euphemia did sound like she was afraid that Cornelia had done something to seriously hurt him, so it wasn't too outside of the bounds of reality.

"Let me have a look at you." Cornelia said as she knelt next to where his head was lying on the couch. Reaching forward, she gently took a hold of the hand pressed against his face before moving it off his cheek. It wasn't too much of a surprise to see a can of soda held in his hands but it was a shock to see the size of the red bruise on the left side of his face.

She could not help but wince at the sight of it. The blood would leak in to the soft tissue underneath the skin, causing the skin to darken horribly. She let out a sigh as she realised that it wouldn't do well for Ciaran to be seen walking around by his subordinates with a massive bruise when he didn't have one before he went to see her.

"There's not much we can do now but to keep it cold." Using a finger, she touched the metal of the can in his hand. "You'll need to get some proper ice on it."

"In the mini-freezer beneath the TV." The young man said, pointing to the panels below the large screen, prompting the Princess to move to her feet. "I'd have gotten some myself, but… you know."

"I know, I know." Cornelia responded as she headed towards the bathroom, searching for a hand towel that she quickly found before heading back in to the room and towards the area that Ciaran had pointed at. Opening the small door, the Princess reached in to the small freezer. Moving quickly, she pulled out the rectangular container filled with ice cubes before she began popping them out and on to the towel.

"All right, now this is definitely going to be cold." She cautioned as she pulled up the corners of the towel and formed a pouch, before she turned around and walked back to where Ciaran was lying down. Leaning down, she pressed the wet and cold fabric against the reddened skin on the young man's cheek, making him winch in response.

"Oooh! That is cold." The Briton repeated, moving around on the couch as he reacted to the cold. "But thanks."

Cornelia didn't say anything in reply as she sat down carefully on the portion of the couch near Ciaran's legs, crossing her hands gently across her knee.

"I want to say I'm sorry for hitting you." She said after a few moments. "But you have to understand; things aren't the same here as they were in your world."

"Cornelia, I'm sorry, but I cannot see why my idea is unreasonable."

"You're asking for Elevens to be mixed in with Britannians!" Cornelia snapped back. "That is not something that any Britannian commander would do."

"But I'm not Britannian." The reclining young man responded, which was fundamentally true.

"Oh, for the love… stop using that as your go-to response, Ciaran!" The Second Princess said as she pushed herself to her feet. "Do you not realise that if something goes wrong with your unit, it's me that will take the blame?"

"Then just say that I did it!" The Briton replied, gesturing with his free hand as best as he could to reinforce his point.

"That's not the issue here. The issue is you letting those Eleven bastards in to the army. In to a special forces unit which has access to the Viceroy's Palace. At a time when we are also fighting their own countrymen! At what point in your train of thought did you even think this through?!"

Without realising it, Cornelia had surged up to her feet, glowering at him.

To his credit, the Briton didn't shrink back from her gaze as he closed his eyes and took in a single breath before he spoke.

"Okay, Cornelia, I'll tell you what I was thinking. I was thinking that we take a vetted group of Honorary Britannians, no less than a platoon or two, and integrate them with the other platoons, mix them up. We get them all trained up, then let them take part in a few missions with the battalion." Ciaran paused as he took in a single breath. "Then we let the public know about us."

Cornelia's eyes shot up in shock as he jaws dropped. "What!?"

"I obviously mean the battalion."

"Oh, yes! That's what got me confused!" She responded sarcastically, throwing up her arms in exasperation. "Ciaran, you want the media to be told about the actions of a… of a clandestine military unit?"

"Technically, I never said that the battalion would be a clandestine unit." The Briton replied, holding up a finger to interrupt her. "At most, the battalion is a commando unit. So, the public knowing what we are, but not knowing what we do, is more what I had in mind for us."

Cornelia let her hands drop as she took in what Ciaran was saying. "Do… do you know what you're saying, Ciaran? You'd willingly let the whole of the Area, and possibly the entire Empire, know that not only are we using a new unit to fight the Black Knights, but also letting them know that we're using a mixed unit of Britannians and Elevens?"

"Yes, I know what I'm saying, Cornelia." Came the reply. "I know that the group we are fighting has very good publicity for them, which is something we need to counter. Zero is painting this fight as Britannians versus the Japanese. That's what he's making the public see. But, if we make the public see this as the Black Knights fighting against the Britannians AND the Japanese, then we get more positive publicity."

"That… that makes sense." Cornelia said to herself. It was a basic fact of any sort of military operation which involved fighting against the local populace, positive propaganda was the key to success. That was the theoretical thought, although none of Britannia's conquests over other areas really allowed for that approach to be tried out.

But she shook the thought from her head as she returned to looking at Ciaran. "Be that as it may, I cannot go through this."

"Why not?" The Briton asked, trying to move up from his seat. "The idea is… ugh, I'm going to be sick."

Moving quickly, Cornelia put a hand against Ciaran's shoulders as she carefully laid him back down on to the couch. "Easy, easy."

"Thank you." Ciaran said after taking a few calming breaths. "But seriously: the concept is sound. Why, as a military officer, a _good_ military officer, will you not support it?"  
Taking a single breath, the Second Princess prepared herself for what she was going to say.

"Ciaran, I think it should be obvious what my feelings towards Elevens are, but I'll say this bluntly: I HATE Elevens. I hate them with every fibre of my soul because of what they took from me."

From his position on the couch, the young captain only stared up at her as he tried to process what she had just said. "Took away from… Oh, you mean your siblings."

Reluctantly, Cornelia nodded her head. "This country took away the people that I love, and like hell am I going to give any Elevens a chance. Not before that bastard Zero is brought to justice."

Turning her head to look at the young man, she wasn't too surprised to see him looking at her in shock.

"Cornelia. You're damning an entire nation for the acts of a few people." He said in confusion. "That… I'm sorry, but I cannot accept that. I mean, I won't say that I don't understand your reasoning, but I just can't accept it."

Well, she saw that coming. "I've never asked you to accept it. I want to know that I cannot allow Elevens to work with Britannians."

"So, I guess we're at an impasse then." Ciaran said simply. "I can't use the battalion to its full potential without extra men, and you won't let me have the extra men until reinforcements arrive."

Stepping forward, Cornelia sat down on the couch next to Ciaran's legs. She could not deny that, with 332 Battalion only operating in one single part of Area 11, the military would have no ability to strike back against the Black Knights for at least a week in any meaningful way. And even when they did get the reinforcements, it would take a good few days, even a week, to quickly train them up in a way that would get them on a level with the Pathfinders.

Damn, this was a horrible situation.

Lifting her right leg up to rest on the couch while taking care not to catch the other occupant of the seat.

Reaching over, she gently put a hand on to Ciaran's leg, giving it a small rub.

"I'm sorry, Ciaran. But this is who I am." She said soothingly. She knew that it wasn't much of an excuse, but it was something. "To be fair though, I'm sure that there were many people who shared the same thoughts as I do. I think you said your Rhodesians were, but were there any others?"

For a few seconds, the young man was silent in thought, before he responded. "There were some other national governments that kept groups apart solely based on race."

"Care to enlighten me?" Cornelia asked, genuinely interested.

Shifting his position a bit so he could look at her better, the Briton spoke up.

"Well, the United States is an interesting example: a history of the destination of the slave trade from Africa because of the European powers then, nearly a hundred years after their revolution, they had a civil war about those slaves, to give the simple description, however the black population didn't really get anything near full citizen status until… it was either the nineteen-sixties or the seventies, I can't quite remember. And that's not including the Asian and Native American populations.

"However, the clearest example of a segregation by race is South Africa. From the mid-twentieth century, onwards, the South African government implemented something called 'apartheid' wherein the majority black population was banned from… well, pretty much everything really. Military service, government, almost everything a white person could do, a black person couldn't. They were 'officially' banned from the armed forces, but there were quite a few black or mixed black-and-white auxiliary units operating in the South African Defence Force."

"Really now?" That piqued the Princess' interest. "Give me an example."

"Well, during the latter portion of the Rhodesian Bush War, the South Africans came in to conflict with another country that had gained its independence by forceful revolution: Angola. Basically, the revolutionary Angolan government was using… oh, what is it called?"

Ciaran rapidly snapped his fingers of his right hand a few times as he tried to remember the name of it.

"Namibia!" He said in exasperation, finally remembering the name of the country. "They were using Namibia and other revolutionary groups in South African controlled Namibia to try and get the South Africans out."

"That area is huge!" Cornelia said in amazement, dimly remembering what she could from a world atlas of that area of Africa. "How did the South Africans cover it?"

"Basically, the same as the Rhodesians did, but since they had a larger army, they could have more bases, more vehicles and more men to cover the ground. Plus, they also made use of the local population of bushmen to help them."

"That makes sense." The Second Princess said, nodding her head. Using people who knew the lay of the land better was always the best way to get the drop on the enemy. And using them in conjunction with armoured vehicles and aircraft was even better. "And you say that South Africa was racially segregated?"

"Indeed, they were." Ciaran replied with a nod. "And yet, it didn't stop them using non-white soldiers when they need them. They even had a mixed battalion fighting in Namibia against the Angolans: 32 Battalion."

Cornelia couldn't help but let out a single bark of laughter. Now that was a cosmic coincidence if she ever heard one.

"Now… how long have you been thinking of doing a mixed battalion ever since I gave you the name?"

"Not as long as you'd think, really." Ciaran admitted. "I only really started thinking about it when I saw the problems we had."

Nodding her head in understanding, the purple-haired princess slumped back in her seat, pressing her back against the armrest.

"You said that South Africa _was_ racially segregated. I'm assuming they're no longer split?" She asked in genuine curiosity. It was always interesting to learn about Ciaran's world.

He shook his head. "No. The Apartheid regime fell the same year I was born, in 1994. So just a little over twenty years now."

"And how has it affected the country?"

A thoughtful look came to Ciaran's face before he spoke. "It's… hard to say really. The rate of anti-white violence is high, but so is the rate of unemployment, crime and poverty. Although that's more because of the government rather than the desegregation. But twenty years is too short a time for wounds like that to heal."

"How long had that system been in place, give or take?" Cornelia asked.

"I'd say about… nearly a hundred years or so." The Briton said forlorn. "That sort of time frame can make reconciliation quite hard."

The Second Princess nodded her head in agreement. That made as much sense as anything. When the Old British government had quashed Washington's rebellion, there was still periodic violence between the American Whigs who fled the Thirteen Colonies and American Loyalists and that carried on for several decades. And then there were the wars against the Seminole tribes and the various tribes of the Western Plains. Decades of war and bloodshed, forced relocations and just the general unpleasantness of man.

"Ciaran," Cornelia said suddenly. "Do you know that Euphemia will become the Viceroy of Area 11 when it's deemed that I've done my duty here?"

A look of shock came to the young man's face. "I… I assumed that you'd be the one left in charge. Like… like what the Roman's did with their governors."

The woman shook her head. "Unfortunately, not. Once I'm done here with the Black Knights, I'll leave for the European Front and take command there, while Euphemia will be placed in charge here."

"And you're worried about what she'll be left with?" Ciaran asked, shifting his body around to look at Cornelia easier.

The Second Princess nodded. "If I could, I would do everything in my power to wipe out e

very single shred of resistance to Britannia, physical or not, just to keep her safe. But… I also want her to be happy. And she wants other people to be happy too."

Looking at Ciaran's face, Cornelia saw a small smile come to his face. "Yeah, that sounds like something she'd say."

"Indeed." The purple-haired woman said. "So, I really need to start thinking about her rule after I'm gone. I'd prefer to leave her with a stable place to rule, but we both know that's not going to happen easily."

"It could." Ciaran said simply. "We just have to be careful about it."

With that said, the pair were back at an impasse again. Sitting silently, Cornelia processed what Ciaran had told him about his world and the policies regarding race. It was true that it's a very different situation between their worlds, since Britannia was a centralized political system versus separate national political entities, but there were many things to learn. More specifically, the after effects of those racial policies.

Letting out a sigh, Cornelia gently swatted Ciaran on the top of his leg.

"All right. You win."

"What? Are you serious?" Came the reply, prompting a nod from the Second Princess.

"I am. You feel strongly about this, and you've also got some historical precedent for your plan to work to back you up, along with Darlton's approval, so I would be idiotic to refuse your plan."

The last part of the sentence was said with a slight intonement as she looked pointedly at Ciaran who, in return, looked away guiltily.

"Yeah, sorry about… well, all of that." He said honestly. "I think-"

"We'll blame it on the adrenaline." Cornelia said, softly rubbing the spot on Ciaran's leg where she had swatted him. "We all understand. We've been through the same thing. But you REALLY need to work on getting your emotions under control."

"I know. I've been told this before." He said with a shrug as he moved to look away from Cornelia.

"Don't worry. We'll work on it later." Cornelia said warmly. "But remember that this isn't a national policy. This is for your unit and your unit alone. I won't say anything else about the idea, but remember what you said to me: if this plan does fail, then it will be on your head."

Ciaran nodded his head. "Understood, Your Highness."

Still smiling, she stood up from her seat and moved to lean over the young man's head. Taking the hand that was on his cheek, she lifted it off before leaning down and gave the Briton a small peck on his still red cheek.

"Stay down for the rest of the day, then come and join us for dinner when you're ready and after that, we'll sort out your reinforcements. Okay?"

"Okay." Ciaran said with a nod as he put the icepack down on to his cheek.

Standing back up right, Cornelia nodded her head in response before she turned and strode out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.

* * *

The truck wheels rumbled underneath Suzaku's seat as it rolled along the highway towards the Viceroy's Palace. Dressed in his orange service dress uniform, he found himself beginning to fidget in his seat. Trying his best to stifle the urge to move in his seat and maintain at least the appearance of a professional soldier, he remembered the lessons taught to him by his father about the importance of good image.

" _The stake that sticks out gets hammered down." His father said to the fidgeting young boy kneeling beside him in the hall of the Kururugi shrine, waiting to receive Taizō Kirihara in another government meeting. "You are the son of the Prime Minister, so behave like it."_

That harshly-worded memory snapped Suzaku's mind to attention as he put his hands on to his knees and straightened his back, focusing his eyes on the road ahead.

From her position in the driver's seat, Cécile glanced over at the teenager sitting in the seat beside her. "Is everything okay, Suzaku? Your back shot up just now."

"It's fine, Miss Cécile." The brown-haired youth replied. "Just… remembering something my dad told me to stop me fidgeting."

The indigo-haired woman nodded her head before she turned her attention back to the road.

"I think that's the only time I've heard you mention your father, Suzaku." Lloyd spoke up from the back of the truck, the lavender-haired scientist sat typing away at his laptop. "Something on your mind?"

Suzaku shook his head. "I'd rather not talk about it, sir."

"Fine, fine." The bespectacled scientist said in a sing-song tone of voice. "Cécile, when we will arrive at the palace?"

"Umm… I'd say about ten minutes. Traffic's pretty good today." The woman replied, looking around the road from her seat.

From his seat, Lloyd let out a snigger. "I think being part of a military convoy helps."

Leaning to the side, Suzaku saw what the older man was talking about: to their front was the form of one the Britannian army's many jeeps, a lethal looking heavy machine gun sticking out from the top, while behind them, viewed from the wing mirror on his side, he saw three eight-tonne trucks trailing behind them followed by another jeep.

"It's strange though that they didn't tell us that we were going to be escorted along with these trucks." The Japanese youth noted.

"Yes, that was quite a surprise." Lloyd said earnestly, while at the same time not taking an eye from his laptop before dropping to a more lackadaisical tone of voice. "But I'm sure we'll find out soon enough."

Both officers in the front of the truck nodded their heads at the scientist's words before they lapsed in to silence again.

The motorcade travelled down the road way for a few more minutes. Even though the truck had a specialist hybrid motor to deal with its large size, it was still very quiet in the cab as Cécile continued driving the large transport vehicle. And ten minutes of silence was not bearable for some people

Once again, it was Cécile who broke the silence.

"So how are your studies going, Suzaku?" She asked amicably, not taking her eyes off the road as she turned the wheel to follow the jeep in front of them.

"Oh, it's good." Suzaku said a little too quickly for his own liking. "Um… we're mainly doing history right now, so that's not too bad. Science is mainly what I struggle with."

"Well you know that you can ask either of us for help, right?" The older woman asked with a chuckle. "I mean, we _are_ both scientists, right Lloyd?"

Looking up from his laptop, the bespectacled man looked at Cécile in confusion. "Um… well, I don't really-"

"See?" The indigo-haired woman said flippantly. "After this is done, we'll look at your work and give you some pointers."

Suzaku wanted to protest, saying that it really wasn't something that Cécile should concern herself with, but the woman's tone of voice told him that he really shouldn't, so he kept his mouth shut and nodded his head.

Again, the interior of the truck slipped in to silence, the only sounds being the sound of Lloyd tapping away at his laptop's keyboard and the sound of the large vehicle rattling along the highway.

Lloyd's comments about their progress being made easier seemed to ring true as the travel time passed more quickly as the convoy reached one of the gates that led in to the Viceroy's Palace, the six vehicles filling in down one of the roadways that led in to the inner bowels of the large building.

"So why are we here again?" The lavender-haired man asked, closing his laptop and making his way to behind the driver's seat.

"Lloyd, I told you this before." Cécile said in exasperation. "We're to deliver the modified Lancelot Club for the Viceroy and Captain Forsyth."

This drew a sound of disgust from the man. "Oh of course. Only that man would be callous enough to defile the twin of my lovely Lancelot."

Suzaku had no idea how to react to that statement. He had to feel that the new additions to the Lancelot Club, kneeling in the back of the truck, were pretty cool. Admittedly, he was not a fan of the overall, but if that's what the captain had wanted, that's what the captain got. And when Princess Cornelia ordered it, there was even less choice in the matter.

Cécile turned the wheel of the vehicle to the side as the convoy turned a corner that lead towards the main hangar, being directed to their area by a technician using light batons. As they turned away, Suzaku looked out of the passenger side window to see what was going on.

On the left-hand side of the large space, stood three platoons worth of men dressed in woodland camouflage uniforms and grey body armour standing at attention, while behind them, stood a group of what looked like fifteen men and women, dressed in simple drab green flight suits, standing in front of what look like…

"Are those helicopters?" Lloyd asked from behind Suzaku's head, himself peering out of the passenger side window as the truck came to a stop. "What are they doing here?"

Looking to her side, Cécile looked out of the window as she put the truck in to park before her eyes opened wide in shock. "Those are helicopters. Mi-24 Valkyrs, if I'm right. Are we that hard up for gear after Narita?"

"It looks like it." Lloyd said as he straightened up from his position.

The sound of someone knocking on the side door of the vehicle drew the trio's attention as Suzaku and Cécile undid their seatbelts.

"Now remember to be _polite_ , Lloyd." The indigo-haired woman stressed as she got up out of her seat.

"When am I anything but?" The scientist said with a shrug and a cocky smile.

Looking to her side, the older woman shared a look with the Japanese youth that basically said "Yeah, you tell yourself that" before the pair made their way to the exit of the transport, Suzaku bringing up the rear.

Making their way down from the cab and in to the main bowels of the transport, easily moving past the kneeling form of the Lancelot Club before coming to a stop opposite the exit. Reaching forward, Lloyd pushed the necessary buttons to disengage the locks on the door before pushing another button to make the door swing outwards.

And almost directly in to the face of General Darlton, making the scarred senior officer cry out in shock.

"Goddamnit!" Darlton cursed as he stepped back to avoid being struck by the metal.

"General Darlton, sir!" Both Cécile and Suzaku said in unison as they stood to attention and saluted.

"Major Croomy, Warrant-Officer Kururugi." Darlton responded, nodding his head before gesturing behind him. "You all remember Captain Forsyth?"

"Yes, I remember, sir. Captain Forsyth, sir." Suzaku said, nodding his head and saluted as he turned to look at the officer in question.

Behind the tall man, the Briton stood at attention. He was dressed in the same woodland camouflage uniforms as the other soldiers, although on his head, he was wearing a dark blue beret on his head, although from the looks of it, it had no insignia on it as the man saluted in response.

"Warrant-Officer Kururugi. Major Croomy." Ciaran said, turning to look at the indigo-haired woman.

"Captain Forsyth." Cécile said in response, copying the gesture.

"Captain Forsyth." Lloyd said, nodding his own head politely.

"Professor Asplund." Ciaran said flatly before a confused expression came to a face. "Did we just do that?"

For a few moments, everyone just looked at the Briton simply before Darlton burst in to a chuckle, clapping the captain on the back.

"And we put you in charge of a commando unit." The general said in a light-hearted voice as he shook his head before he turned his attention back to the Camelot members. "So, is it here?"

"Yes, it's in the back." Lloyd said in his usually flippant tone of voice, turning to gesture at the vehicle behind him. "If you'll kindly follow me, we'll get it-"

"Captain Forsyth, sir." A blonde man, wearing the same uniform as the dark-haired Briton, but with lieutenant's stars, appeared from around the front of the transport. "The men are ready."

Ciaran nodded his head. "All right, Nate. I'll be there right now." Turning around, he looked at the group from Camelot. "I'm really sorry about this but this is really important. I'll be five minutes, tops."

Lloyd looked like he was ready to say something rude, so Cécile cut in.

"It's perfectly all right, captain." She said in a professional manner. "We'll unload the Knightmare Frame for the technicians to deal with."

Nodding his head in reply, the Briton turned around followed the lieutenant around the truck and out of sight. Standing where he was, General Darlton crossed his arms over his chest as he watched the two men walk away before he turned his head to look directly at Suzaku.

"The son of the late Japanese Prime Minister." The tall man stated as he looked at the teen.

"Um… yes, sir." Suzaku responded, unsure about what the general was getting at.

Not saying another word, the general turned and headed in the direction that the two junior officers had gone before he simply motioned for Suzaku to follow him. Turning around, the teen tried to see if Cécile or Lloyd had something else to say on the matter, but the pair were equally unsure about what to do, so he followed Darlton.

Moving to come beside the general, Suzaku fell in to step as the Britannian walked towards the space past the transport. Directly across from them, the soldiers in woodland camouflage still stood in their ordered rows while standing at a right angle from them, the three eight-tonne trucks were parked with their rear ramps down while in front of them stood nearly sixty men standing at attention, all dressed in the dark grey battledress and body armour of the Britannian army. None of the men were wearing helmets though, which lead to a big surprise for the Japanese youth.

"They're Honorary Britannians!" Suzaku called out in shock as he saw that virtually all the men possessed the same skin colour as him before he promptly clamped his mouth shut. To his side, Darlton didn't say anything, merely giving him a sly smile before he put a finger to his lips.

"Quiet now, Warrant-Officer. Just watch."

Quietly, Suzaku watched as the British-born captain, tailed by his lieutenant, moved in to the middle of the space afforded by the right-angle of men before he stopped, putting his hands behind his back, standing at a form of parade rest.

"Platoons!" He called out in a loud bellow. "Stand at… ease!"

As one, all the assembled men, nearly one-hundred men in all, placed their feet parallel to their shoulders and their hands behind their backs. For a moment, the hangar was filled the with the noise of men moving in perfect synchronicity before it fell silent again.

Once again, Ciaran spoke up, turning fully to address the soldiers in grey uniforms.

"To the soldiers of the Britannian Foreign Legion, you Honorary Britannians; my name is Ciaran Forsyth! I am a captain of the Second Princess Cornelia Li Britannia's Royal Guard and the commanding officer of the newly created 332 Light Infantry Battalion. For those of you who don't know, which is literally all of you, we were created after the battle of Narita with the express purpose of combating the insurgent forces on this island.

"Our goal, with this new unit, is to find where the enemy is hiding, ascertain his numbers… and bring the fury of the heaven's down on to his head!"

Suzaku was surprised by the fervour in the man's voice, expecting him to carry on like he had heard so many speeches that his superior officers had given when he still wore the grey. But he was equally surprised when Ciaran's voice dropped in tone.

"However, we have run in to several problems, as so many new experiments do. The main one is manpower. Simply put: we need more men. And that's why you're here."

From his position, Suzaku heard confused murmurings in his native language before they were loudly silenced by a Britannian-born sergeant-major.

"Silence in the ranks!" He yelled out and the Honorary Britannians fell in to silence.

Unperturbed by the disruption, Ciaran continued speaking. "Normally, protocol would mean that we'd have to wait until reinforcements from Britannia to arrive before we began selecting for new recruits, but time is of the essence. The longer we wait, the longer time Zero and his cronies have time to prepare. And, frankly, the fact that you lot are just sitting around doing NOTHING offends me."

The boy's eyes shot open in shock while, to his side, one of Darlton's eyebrows arched in surprise, but neither said anything as the captain continued speaking whilst he began pacing back and forth in front of the men.

"I have heard nothing of Honorary Britannians volunteering for frontline duties, or to help in combating the insurgents… and that confuses me to no end. I mean; if anyone has the most to lose from this situation, it's you. Now, I ask this to you directly: how many of you have families in the ghettoes?"

For a moment, there was a small waver of movement among the ranks of the Honorary Britannians as they digested his words before, slowly, very slowly, almost every single hand rose in to the air, making Suzaku grimace.

It was a fact that when non-Britannians made the decision to become Honorary Britannians, they and only they were the ones to get the meagre rewards from it. Housing, no matter how simple, and a pay check, no matter how small; those benefits were theirs and only theirs. The regulations that Honorary Britannians signed themselves to meant that the ability to send money to relatives in the ghettoes was downright abysmal or non-existent.

"So, I'll ask: who is that's going to be rounded up and interrogated by the police? Whose lives are going to be made more difficult as the insurgents go around 'asking' for volunteers? And whose families are going to suffer at the hands of Britannians who feel it's their 'duty' to root out terrorist sympathizers in the ghettoes?"

An uneasy feeling fell across the men as they digested what was said. While most Britannians were, in a simple word, apathetic to the plight of non-Britannians, there were some of those who willingly took things too far under the guise of 'patriotic duty' and those were the sorts of people who would go stalking around the ghettoes in roving gangs, committing acts that made the populace of the ghettoes cower in fear and acts that the police turned a blind eye to.

"I'll answer for you:" Ciaran said flippantly. "It's your families, who will pay the price either way, since all of you are doing nothing."

Suzaku was surprised by what the Briton was saying. He was acting flippantly about the situation that the Honorary Britannians were in. While he wasn't directly blaming them for what was happening, he was quite implicitly saying that inaction imposed on them by the government was not helping the situation either.

In truth, he wasn't sure what to make of that line of thought.

"But!" The captain said dramatically, stopping his walk and holding up a finger for all to see. "I feel that keeping able-bodied men out of action when they could be used otherwise is a waste of resources! And _that_ is why you are all here today."

Reaching in to one of his breast pockets and drew out a sheet of folded up paper, which be quickly unfolded and held aloft for all to see.

"I have a Decree Imperial here, from Princess Cornelia herself, saying that as of today, Thursday the Thirtieth of July, members of the Britannian Foreign Legion in Area 11 will be chosen to formally join the 332 Light Infantry Battalion in a full combat capacity."

Confused and excited murmurs erupted from the ranks of the Honorary Britannians and this time, the sergeant-major couldn't quiet them down.

Instead it was the sergeant-major dressed in the uniform of the 332 who got them to quiet down with a well-timed and well-yelled "SHUT IT!"

His voice rolled through the hangar, making practically everyone flinch in response before they promptly shut their mouths.

From his vantage point, Suzaku watched Ciaran bring a finger to his ear and move it around inside in discomfort. "Thank you for that, Mister Reynolds. And for those wondering if what I have said is a joke, then you should know by now that Princess Cornelia does not make jokes."

Holding the paper aloft again, he carried on speaking.

"I have asked the Princess for two platoons worth of men, and that is why you are here. You will still be legally classed as Honorary Britannians, but you will be given the same treatment as Britannian regulars: a regular pay, better accommodation and your families will be moved to specially prepared housing for them. I can't vouch for the quality of the accommodation itself, but they'll get beds and warm food. And they'll be kept safer there than in the ghetto."

Suzaku could see that the men wanted to express their joy at this, but an upraised hand from the captain, and fears of any more reprimands from the sergeant-majors, kept them quiet, but the look of joy on his own face was one that he knew they wanted to express.

"However, as with everything in this world, that comes with a price: we are a frontline combat unit. You will be in action, against men and women who are your own countrymen. That will test your resolve. But know this: if you are caught alive by the enemy… well, I don't _know_ what they'll do, but I can imagine that it will not be pleasant. You have to be prepared to face that fact."

Folding the piece of paper back up, Ciaran retook the same stance he was in before.

"Now, I'll say this to you: I don't want anyone who wasn't want to fight. These fine bodies of men," he jerked his head to the side to indicate the original members of the battalion. "Are true dogs of war. They took to this concept like they were born for it. You, on the other hand, were essentially forced to fight. So, I won't take anyone who doesn't want to come."

The room fell silent again as the men absorbed the captain's words. Suzaku knew what they were feeling: since the choice to become Honorary Britannians, these men had all sorts of autonomy and choice stripped from them, so to be given the choice to become part of a unit? That was a very big choice for them.

"I'm afraid that I must see to matters concerning the Royal Guard, so Lieutenant Fick here will take over for me. But I shall say this: to those of you who choose to join us, you will no longer be seen as Honorary Britannians or Elevens. To me, you will be soldiers first and foremost. Think hard on your choice."

Turning, the captain handed off the Decree Imperial to the man behind him before walking off towards where General Darlton and Suzaku were standing.

"So? How was that?" He asked, a goofy smile on his face as he came to stand in front of the pair.

"Not bad." Darlton replied, looking past his head to look at the ranks of the Honorary Britannians. Following his gaze, Suzaku saw that Lieutenant Fick had moved to talk to the sergeant-major about what to do, while the Japanese men just stood there in confusion, still trying to process what had just happened. "I think you made quite a compelling case."

"Uh, C-Captain?" Suzaku asked, remembering at the last moment to address Ciaran by his rank and not his name. "Is that why we were brought here too? Was I…?"

"Huh? Oh! Oh, no, Suzaku." The Briton said as he realised what the teen was getting at. "That's not why you're here. That was pure coincidence, I assure you."

The teen nodded his head in understanding: that did make more sense. But what he had said before… it worried him.

"Sir?" He asked, not sure who to address. "Was… was what you said about the Honorary Britannians getting treated like the regular Britannians… was that true?"

For a few moments, both men were silent as they thought over the question. While the question earned an apologetic shrug from the Briton, it was Darlton who answered.

"Warrant-Officer, you of all people should know that Britannia rewards those who support them. We don't just hand rewards like this out to anyone, especially Honorary Britannians." The general shrugged his large shoulders. "But, as the captain said, the Viceroy is a woman of her word, so they'll get the stuff they've been promised."

Suzaku nodded his head. Life for Honorary Britannians was not as hard as the life of non-Britannians in Area 11, but in all honesty, it was only marginal. The only jobs Honorary Britannians could get were either menial work; builders, drainage workers, food stall vendors. All of the jobs that required as little training as possible and got as little pay in return. It was either that or joining the military.

Even then though, the Britannians were thoroughly strict about their own hierarchy. Britannians could mix with non-Britannians, but when it came to military affairs, non-Britannians were never allowed to serve in the same capacity as those they served. Instead, they were used in situations where they were considered to be expendable: searching hideouts of suspected terrorists, clearing minefields, probably some of the worst military operations that didn't require any serious training.

This sort of combination of Britannians and non-Britannians together, it was probably the best thing that he could think of to happen so soon after the invasion.

"So… who's idea was it to have Honorary Britannians join the unit?" Suzaku asked hesitantly.

"It was me." The British-born captain replied matter-of-factly.

The revelation caused Suzaku's eyes to open wide in shock, absolutely unbelieving in what he had heard.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the Britannian general held up his hand to silence him.

"Now's not the time for questions, warrant-officer. We've got a Knightmare to inspect."

Quickly remembering his reason for being here, Suzaku nodded his head.

"I'm sorry, General. Follow me, sir."

Moving around from the transport and past the opened rear section, the trio headed towards the area that had been set aside for receiving the new Knightmare Frame. The path there wasn't as cluttered or strewn with pipes as it so often was at the Camelot's quarters at the university, but Suzaku put that down to the fact that they were in the Viceroy's Palace.

"So, has the Lancelot Club been tested out yet?" General Darlton asked from in front of the Japanese teen.

"Uh, no, sir. Not yet." He said hesitantly. "Cécile- Major Croomy felt that, since the Club's performance is aligned more for Captain Forsyth's reaction time, then my operating it might… it might…"

"Throw it out of whack?" The general asked, arching an eyebrow with a smirk.

"… Basically." Suzaku replied.

"Makes sense." The Briton said as the trio continued walking. "How much has the professor been whining about it?"

"Ciaran." General Darlton said pointedly, giving the Briton a sideways glance. "Be nice. But that is a question, warrant-officer; How badly has Professor Asplund been taking this job?"

Replying the only way he could, Suzaku shrugged. "I don't really know. I've been in school a lot of the time that the Lancelot Club was being worked on, so I can't say. But from the moods he was in when I was there, he's just taken to it as he normally does with his experiments, I guess."

The two senior officers nodded their heads as the group approached the section of the hangar used for Knightmare storage. Nearly three dozen machines, a mix of Gloucesters and Sutherlands, stood silently in their corrals, unarmed but still able to radiate power.

In the middle of the group, in front of a section set aside for the personal Knightmare Frames of Cornelia and her Royal Guard, a new Knightmare was kneeling, silent and imposing. And in a completely different colour to the others.

"Oh, now that's awesome!" Ciaran couldn't help but enthuse, smilingly happily at the machine in front of them.

"Now that's a Knightmare." Darlton intoned, putting his hands on to his hips as he took in the sight of the newly redone Lancelot Club. And Suzaku was heavily inclined to agree with the both of them.

Kneeling in the open space, connected to various types of computers and machines by cables and wires of varying length and thickness, the Lancelot's half-brother (as Lloyd referred to it) was being prepared for connection with its pilot. Various orange-suited technicians worked around the machine, each man acting the guidance and direction of Cécile or Lloyd. It's pilot block was open, with numerous cables trailing out of it.

Suzaku had to admit, even crouched and with its weapons removed, the Club looked very intimidating. It's arms and legs, while held close its body, were covered in segments of square plates arrayed in a such a way to cover the entirety of the forearms and the shin and knee of the legs.

"Well they got the colour right." The Briton noted happily. "And they got rid of the horn too. That's a good start."

"Is it possible for you to go one minute without badmouthing my designs?" The voice of Lloyd suddenly sounded front in front of the group, forcing the trio to look down at him.

On the captain's face, a conflicted look came to his face as he thought hard on what to say.

"Well-" Ciaran began before the general promptly clamped a hand over his mouth, shutting him up.

"Let's just get this started up, shall we, Professor Asplund?" Darlton asked, a friendly look on his face.

Suzaku watched as Lloyd squinted at the captain in scrutiny before he gestured to the machine behind him.

"Well, let's get this over with." The scientist said. "Captain, how familiar are you with the original Lancelot?"

Taking his hand off his mouth, Darlton let the young man speak.

"Not so much, no. All I know is that the Lancelot is the first Seventh-Generation Knightmare."

Looking at the man, Suzaku couldn't help but miss the catlike smile that came to Lloyd's face as he turned to look at the Lancelot Club. "Well, allow me to enlighten you. The Lancelot is a completely new unit, meaning that everything was built from scratch. The Club, however, was made with the Sutherland as its base."

Turning around, the scientists motioned for the men to follow him.

"Follow me and I'll talk you through the specifics."

As the two officers moved to follow him, Suzaku remained standing where he was, unsure about whether to follow or not.

That was put to bed though as General Darlton called out to him. "Warrant-officer! Follow us. You need to know as much about this machine as Captain Forsyth does."

"Y-yes, sir!" Suzaku responded, jogging over to the pair quickly, just catching up with them as Lloyd began his explanation in front of one of the machine's large left leg.

"Since the machine is a mix of both mainstream and experimental parts, the Club's performance is a little bit peakier than the Lancelot." Lloyd cautioned, looking up at the green Knightmare. "But, since it's been tooled for the use of Captain Forsyth here. Following his… _comments_ on the original iteration of the Club, we have also upped the armour using the explosive reactive plates on the legs, torso and shoulders."

"Well that's one way to do it." Ciaran said in honesty as he put a hand out and patted one of the square plates on to the Lancelot Club's leg.

"Explosive reactive plates?" Suzaku asked innocently. "I've never heard that term before."

"Really?" Ciaran asked in amazement.

"A little bit before his time, Captain." Darlton replied with a disarming smile. "And a little outside of his paygrade too. Warrant-officer, explosive reactive armour are basically two plates of metal which are placed around a slab of high-explosives. When enemy ballistics hit the plates, the explosives detonate, forcing the plates apart and destroying the enemy round. It's especially useful against shaped charges fired from RPGs and such."

"Too bloody right." The Briton added on, his hand still on the leg before he turned to look at Lloyd. "Although how does it affect the speed of the Frame?"

"It's marginal." The older man said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Since the Club is, as I've said before, a mix of mass-produced and freshly-built parts, it's slower than the Lancelot, but not by much. The Lancelot can top about eighty miles-per-hour on road while the Club can only manage seventy, but when you get off-road, the difference is neglectable."

"What about its weapons systems?" The scarred general asked simply.

"Cécile is getting them ready now." Lloyd said. "Now, we took in to consideration the comments that were raised during Captain Forsyth's… 'evaluation' of the Club, we altered a few things. The Maser Vibration Swords are still included, although I'm afraid you'll have to make do with one because of the Club's main armament."

"Oh?" Ciaran said simply, arching an eyebrow in confusion.

"Cécile will tell you more. Oh, Cécile! Do you the Club's weapons ready?" The scientist hollered out as he turned his head to look over his shoulder.

"Almost, Lloyd." The woman's voice replied from the opposite side of the kneeling Knightmare. "I'm working on it now with some of the other technicians. Just bring them around."

Following the sound of the voice, the group of four circle around the Knightmare to where Cécile's voice came from before they found her. She was overseeing a group of technicians who were working over what looked like a small artillery piece.

At the sound of them approaching her, the indigo-haired woman turned around to face them before she threw up her hand in a salute to the general, only to be waved down.

"So, what's this new weapon then?" Darlton asked.

"It's right here, sir." Cécile said, gesturing to the weapon behind her. "It took a good few days to get it right, but I think you'll like the finished product."

Ordering the orange uniformed technicians out of the way, the major let the group see the weapon in full.

"We used a RARDEN L21A1 thirty-millimetre autocannon as the base weapon before we modified it to be used by a Knightmare Frame." She said, gesturing to the long-barrelled weapon. "The only problem we had was the ammunition feed, which is the reason why the Lancelot Club only has the one MVS."

Looking at the weapon, Suzaku could see where Cécile was coming from. The general design of the weapon was like the rifles used by other Knightmares, but the design was longer in length, with a longer barrel and a muzzle break. The pistol grip was offset too. Instead of being in the conventional position, it was put flush against the body of the gun, just in front of the rear of the gun.

Then there was the ammunition. Instead of a standard magazine, there was a long ammunition belt, probably about a metre and a half in length that trailed from the gun itself in to a large rectangular box, about two metres in length and one metre in width and depth.

"That is a big ammo drum." Ciaran noted in amazement. "Won't it… I don't know, offset the balance of the Club a bit?"

"We've tested it out. Don't worry." Cécile responded warmly. "The Frame keeps its balance well. However, we've found that to get a better result from the autocannon, deploying the landspinners gives a more stable platform."

Ciaran nodded his head as he approached the large weapon. "Is it able to take both anti-armour and anti-infantry rounds?"

"You've got a choice of high explosive and depleted uranium shells."

"How many rounds can it hold?" Darlton asked.

"Just a little over one thousand rounds." Cécile answered. "And the weapon sight is synced up to your head's up display in the cockpit. So, you don't need to technically aim it all the time."

"Ah, awesome." The Briton said, a smile on his face. "So, are we going to fire this up then, General?"

"Professor Asplund?" The scarred senior officer said, turning to look at the bespectacled scientist.

"Just give the order, general."

"All right, Ciaran. Climb inside." General Darlton said, nodding his head to the Briton. "Same as what you did with Nonette and myself."

Throwing his hand up in salute, the Briton nodded his head. "Aye, sir!"

"All right! All technicians, clear the area!" Cécile called out sternly. "Prepare the Lancelot Club for activation and live testing."

At the command, the numerous crewmen began their task as cables and wires were disengaged and spooled, while computers were shut down in sequence and wheeled off before the various men and women quickly rushed to prepared positions as the Lancelot Club was made ready for activation.

While all this was going, the scarred general turned and began walking towards a door at the side of the hangar. "Follow me, Professor Asplund. Warrant-Officer."

Deciding not to question the officer, the pair quickly matched their paces with his as the general lead them to a bank of elevators. Above their heads, a warning was broadcast over the loud speakers.

"All non-essential personnel are to move to designated safety areas until the all-clear is sounded."

As the message was repeated, the elevator door opened to let them inside.

"We're heading up to the control room. It'll give us the best vantage point of what's going on." General Darlton explained as he pressed the button to take the group up.

"I trust that you'll let Camelot keep the data that we collect from this little endeavour, General?" Lloyd asked, shooting the bulkier man a sideways glance.

"Of course." Came the response from the other man before the elevator dinged.

The room control room was made up of two layers, with a standing area at the front and behind a large viewing window while behind and above them, various computers and displays, all manned by members of the Royal Britannian Engineering Corps.

Moving to look out of the window, Suzaku saw the pilot block of the Lancelot Club slide in to place while the last of the technicians moved away to a safe distance.

A burst of static from a nearby radio preceded the sound of Ciaran's voice coming through.

"All right, I'm in the Club." He said. "Systems all look ready. Everything is reading green. I'm ready to move out for some further testing."

Turning around, Suzaku watched as General Darlton bent down slightly, looking at a small screen.

"How does it feel to sit inside?"

"It feels good." Came the reply. "It's really good. Not to sound weird, but it feels more like I'm wearing it than piloting it."

A smile creased the general's face as Suzaku moved around to look at the face of the dark-haired captain on the small screen while General Darlton spoke again. "Good to hear. Now, same rifle drill as with the Sutherland and Gloucester. But, try not to miss as often this time, okay?"

The young Japanese teen couldn't help but smile slightly at the unimpressed look that came to the Briton's face before he responded.

"Thanks for that, sir. Okay, I'm booting her up now."

Looking back out the window, Suzaku watched as the drab green Knightmare Frame powered up, unfolding its arms as it moved to stand upright.

From his vantage point, Suzaku couldn't help but be awed by the new visage of the Lancelot Club. While it was the same height as his own Lancelot, he could not deny that explosive armour attached to its legs, arms, chest and shoulders reminded him heavily of images of old samurai and Viking armour that he had seen in history text-books while the restructured head unit, with its removed horn and cheek protrusions, both additions replaced with a simple metal 'mouth-piece' made him think so much of a knight's armour.

It really was a brutal looking machine of war, and Suzaku couldn't help but shiver slightly as the machine turned its head to look at the control room window.

"I'm reading green all over the board, captain." General Darlton noted. "All right then. Power her up fully and take her for a spin."

"Will do, general." Ciaran responded with a smirk. "But first, I've been wanting to do this since I was first introduced to these lovely things."

The three exchanged confused looks as they watched the machine seem to flex its shoulder joints before balling its hands in to fists. Then, moving quickly, the fists collided with each other forcefully, the sound of metal striking metal rebounding through the hangar.

To his side, Suzaku saw Lloyd visibly flinch at the sight of the impact, while the general merely shook his head with a grin.

"This is going to be a fun demonstration." General Darlton said.

* * *

For the next hour, the Lancelot Club was put through its paces in the confines of the hangar. As expected, the machine could run rings around the more conventional Sutherlands and Gloucesters, also being able to turn tighter corners, which would be a boon in built up urban areas or woodland environments.

The weapons tests followed suit. The Maser Vibration Sword performed exactly as expected of it, the rapidly oscillating and super-heated metal easily cutting through dummy targets like a hot knife through butter. Literally. Even the one-handed nature of the sword, combined with the Blaze Luminous built in to the forearms, provided Ciaran with a good degree of tactical choice. And that was only increased by the inclusion of the RARDEN cannon.

Connecting the bulky rectangular magazine to the rear of the Frame, with the help of Cécile and her technicians, and hefting the weapon, Ciaran filled the hangar with the heavy, steady percussive bass bark of the thirty-millimetre cannon firing off. As Cécile had said, the machine managed to retain its balance even with the addition of the extra weight. And then there was the act of firing the weapon. Even on the move, with the long recoil system of the weapon, actual recoil was manageable enough that it seemed that, if the target was standing stationary, the Briton or any other pilot could get several rounds easily in to the enemy before they reacted. If they could react in time.

Overall, the young man's performance in the Lancelot Club was considered more than satisfactory, probably more so than his performance in the Gloucester. Using the technical data recovered from Ciaran's ejected pilot block, coupled with the data from Lady Villetta's pilot block, recovered from Narita, it was decided that both the Lancelot and the Lancelot Club would be more than a match for the red Knightmare Frame used by the Black Knight's ace.

However, with the British captain's duties as the commander of the Fireforce meant that, until such a time as when Princess Cornelia deemed the Britannian forces were to take the fight to the Black Knights, then the Club would be on stand-by.

So for the time being, the green Knightmare was placed in to one of the storage corrals, standing silently, but no looking no less deadly.

* * *

"Well," Cécile said happily. "I'd say that was a good bit of work we did today."

The Camelot staff were all seated in the main mess hall of the Viceroy's Palace, eating their lunch. The large room was mainly set aside for the contingent of the military that was housed in the Viceroy's Palace, but since Narita, the large room had become decidedly empty. So, General Darlton hadn't deemed it too much trouble for the staff of Camelot to have their lunch with the members of 332 Battalion.

Looking up from his meal, Suzaku nodded his head to the indigo-haired woman. "I honestly didn't think the Lancelot Club would be so…"

"So what?" Lloyd asked, looking up from his second bowl of chocolate pudding, obviously interested in what the young man wanted to say.

"I don't know." Suzaku admitted after a few seconds. "It's amazing how completely different the machines look now."

"What do you mean, Suzaku?" Cécile asked, looking at the teenager intently.

"I mean, like… The Lancelot has the ability to save lives, and I've done that. But the Lancelot Club. It looks the complete opposite."

For a few seconds, both Britannians merely looked at him for a few seconds before turning to look at the other, obviously unsure about how to respond.

"Suzaku?" Cécile asked. "As a soldier, you do know that you have killed people to save the lives you've rescued, right?"

The teen nodded his head, slightly confused by the question. "Yes, I know that. But… when I fight in the Lancelot, I know that I'm fighting to save people, Britannian and non-Britannian, and the Lancelot gives off that feeling. But the Lancelot Club doesn't. It's more like…"

"He's the Black Knight." Lloyd said thoughtfully, sounding like he was reciting a memory.

"What?!" Cécile asked incredulously. "Lloyd, I know you don't like him, but that's a serious accusation to make."

Rolling his eyes, the lavender-haired scientist spoke again. "No, not A Black Knight. He's THE Black Knight. He's the opposite of the White Knight. It's a literary thing."

"What do you mean?" Suzaku asked, not really getting the relevance of what the older man was getting at.

"Well, basically put; the white knight is the man who saves lives and the black knight ends them. It's a basic literary rule."

For a few seconds, Cécile and Suzaku just looked at Lloyd in confusion, obviously having no idea what to say until someone spoke up behind the Japanese teen.

"Yeah, but there's always exceptions to a rule."

Turning around, Suzaku looked up in surprise to see Ciaran, still dress in his uniform but minus the beret, standing behind him, a confused look on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh, you're a literary master now?" Lloyd asked, looking at the man simply.

"Well, I've read a fair few books." The Briton replied with a shrug. "Like there was this story I read about a mercenary company during the medieval period, where one man wore black and the other wore white. Both were vicious fighters, but the one in white armour was very manipulative, cruel, fucked the king's daughter, etc. To cut a long story short, the guy in white basically betrayed every one of his friends for power and the guy in black wants to kill the other guy."

The three Camelot members merely looked at the man before Lloyd spoke up. "That's a bit of a specific example, isn't it?"

In reply, Ciaran shrugged. "Just a bit. But I can give you an incredibly old example of how the colour white is not always used by someone nice."

Turning his head to watch him, Suzaku arched an eyebrow as Lloyd leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms across his chest. "Okay, this should be interesting."

Looking back up at the standing man, the Japanese youth watched the captain take in a small breath of air, before closing his eyes, he began reciting.

"And in the midst of the great beasts, I heard a voice say; 'Come and see.' And I looked and behold, a white horse. And his name that sat upon him was Death. And Hell followed with him."

The dark-haired teen didn't know how to respond. That was not something he'd heard before and, to be honest, it was kind of creepy too.

"Are you saying that Suzaku is one of Four Horsemen?" Cécile asked, sounding as angry as she did at Lloyd before, while obviously getting the reference.

"What?" Ciaran blanched. "No, of course. I was just giving an example of when something that is white but isn't good. In a literary sense, of course."

Looking across the table to the others, Suzaku merely looked at them in question, still understanding the relevance of what was being said, before Lloyd shrugged his shoulders. "That's from the Bible, Suzaku. The Book of Revelations. It's to do with the end of the world."

"Oh!" The teen said in reply. "That… that's a little bit creepy."

"Yeah. Religion is kind of like that." Ciaran said, shrugging his shoulders. "Did you know that it was Zoroastrianism that technically created the concept of a single God-figure?"

As he opened his mouth to reply, not really knowing what to say since monotheistic religion had never really taken root in Japan mainstream, Suzaku was cut short as Lloyd spoke up again.

"A very interesting fact, captain. But I doubt you came here to discuss religion. What do you want?"

For a few seconds, the Briton looked like he was going to give a rude retort. But instead, he simply thumped his fist against his forehead as he grimaced.

"Ah, of course." He said before he turned to look at Cécile. "Major Croomy. Since you and your staff are going to be here for a while, would it be all right I have Suzaku here join me for a drink?"

Suzaku's eyes opened wide, both at the fact that the man had remembered about his promise to have a drink with him, but also mainly at the fact that he thought that Cécile was the main head for the Camelot group.

"Of course, that's fine." The indigo-haired woman said pleasantly. "Just don't be gone too long."

"Now wait a minute, Cécile. He can't just take our devi-gahah!" Lloyd began before he let out a pained gasp, one that could have only come from the female officer harshly pinching him on the leg.

"Don't mind Lloyd, Ciaran." She said amicably. "I think it's good for Suzaku to familiarise himself better with the pilot of the Club and this is a good chance. Isn't that right, Lloyd?"

The bespectacled scientist didn't let out a word so much as he let out a sound of agreement before Cécile turned to look at the teen. "Right, Suzaku?"

"Yeah, of course." Suzaku said happily, to which Ciaran replied with a warm smile.

"All right then. Come on. I've got a good place for drinks."

"Wait, we're not staying here?" The young Japanese teen said in reply, even as he stood up from his seat and began following the man who was walking away.

"Well not to insult this fine establishment, but we could certainly do better for drinks." Ciaran stated as he walked past the table of his own men.

"Oh, okay." Suzaku replied as he simply walked behind the Briton, watching him as he exchanged a few words with the men wearing the woodland camouflage uniforms. Looking around, though, he didn't see any Japanese faces. "Where are the Honorary Britannians?"

"They're being brought up to speed on the nature of our unit and how we fight. Just filling them in on the info that they weren't told when they were selected for this job." The British captain replied.

Nodding his head, the dark-haired teen understood that but he didn't feel the need to say anything in response. He wasn't in this unit so he didn't really need to ask for more information as he followed the Briton in to one of the elevator's that lead up to the higher levels of the Palace.

After a few seconds of travelling up, the elevator door opened in to one of the hallways in the interior of the large building. To both his left and his right, the teen could only see more hallways branching off on either side.

"Down here on the right." Ciaran said, leading the confused teen to the right before taking him out in to a hallway that was obviously closer to the outside of the large building, judging from the large bay windows.

Following the Briton, Suzaku was awed by the grandiose nature of the Viceroy's Palace. Even just being in the hangar showed how large this building was, but walking down the hallways of the interior, he fully began to appreciate how big it was. Arches, made from pure white marble, held up a ceiling tall enough to comfortably hold a Knightmare while large windows built in the style of the Old World let in tonnes of natural, late morning sunlight.

"Just down here, mate." Ciaran said, pointing at a corridor that led to the right.

Not saying anything, Suzaku simply followed him as he made his way down the hallway. He had to take his word for it since this place was so large that he would have no problems getting lost.

"How long did it take for you to figure out where everything is?" He asked the Briton.

"It's not too hard really." Ciaran replied with a shrug. "All of the areas for recreation are towards the interior of the middle levels. Once you make two or three trips, you figure things out."

Suzaku nodded his head in understanding as he followed the older man down a series of twists and turns until they reached a set of double doors with the words 'OFFICER'S MESS' stamped on the door.

"Oh, it's the officer's mess?" Suzaku said in confused worry. "Should… will I be allowed in here?"

"Don't worry, lad." Ciaran responded with a disarming smile. "You're with me, so you'll be okay."

As the captain pushed open the door, Suzaku was surprised to see the interior of the room… and the fact that it was almost virtually empty apart from the man behind the bar.

"Good morning, Captain Forsyth." The man said with a happy smile before it dropped in confusion. "Is he allowed to be in here?"

Suzaku grimaced slightly at the man's question. Although given the current situation, he wasn't sure whether it was because he was an Eleven or because he wasn't an officer.

"It's all right, mate." Ciaran said, closing the door behind the pair. "He's with me. Two half pints of cider."

The man behind the bar and Suzaku arched an eyebrow at the request.

"Uh… Ciaran?" The youth asked in a whisper. "We're both on duty."

"Technically, Suzaku; we're on a break. So, I think we can deal with a half-pint."

"But…" Suzaku whispered quickly. "I'm only seventeen."

The Briton just looked at him blankly for a few seconds before he shrugged. "And? Practically everyone drinks before they're legal, so it's fine. Plus, no-one will find out. Two half-pints of cider, please."

"We've only got bottles, captain." The barman said, reaching down underneath the bar before snapping off the pair of bottlecaps. "Here you go, gents."

"Thank you." Ciaran said, moving towards the bar and taking the drinks in hand before he turned and pointed to one of the booths. "We'll sit there."

Not saying a word, the Japanese teen headed towards the indicated area, a booth made from large seats covered in deep red leather facing each other with a table between them. Sliding on to the left side seat, Suzaku waited until the captain sat down and slid his bottle over to him. Taking it carefully, he wasn't sure what to do until he looked up and saw Ciaran take a swig from his own bottle.

Deciding not to be rude, Suzaku bought the bottle up to his lips and took a small swig of his own. Almost immediately, his tongue was hit with the strong taste of apples which managed to mask the slight burn of the alcohol, making him grimace slightly. In front of him, Ciaran chuckled slightly at the display.

"Yeah. Alcohol always tastes rank the first time you try it." He said sympathetically, looking down at this own drink fondly. "But cider's still one of the better ones to start with, I feel."

"If you say so." Suzaku responded, putting his bottle down on to the table. "So… what do you want to talk about?"

For a few moments, the Briton had a contemplative look on his face before he spoke. "Well, to be honest, I kind of want to know a bit about yourself."

"R-really?"

Ciaran nodded. "A young man, of obvious Japanese birth, willingly serving in the Britannian military, handpicked to pilot probably one the most advanced Knightmare Frames in existence. And on top of that, you're in an all-Britannian school on top of that. Honestly? I'm impressed."

Blinking his eyes in confusion, Suzaku suddenly remembered that the man in front of him wasn't Britannian, so what he'd said was meant fully as a compliment.

"But… you're in Cornelia's Royal Guard?" He asked. "Can't you just… look up my file or something?"

While he was being asked this, the Briton had brought his bottle up to his lips and had been in the process of drinking. Taking the bottle away from his lips, he looked at the young man sitting across from him with a nonplussed look on his face.

"Suzaku. I've been taking part in forming a new military unit, which includes getting personnel, equipment and weapons for it. That's included on top of all of the other duties I have as a member of the Royal Guard. Do you think I'd be given the time to go and look up the file of one soldier? Especially an Honorary Britannian?"

"Uh… no, you're right." Suzaku replied, nodding his head. It was a bit much to ask, but in a way, it was nice of the man to take the time out to actually talk to him. "So, what do you want to know?"

A pensive look came to the Briton's face as he thought about what to say.

"Well, let's go with one I've been wanting to ask for a while: what do your parents think about you working with the Britannians?"

Suzaku blanched at the man's words. He knew that it was an innocent enough question, but it still stung deeply to hear that question asked.

"Umm… well… the truth is…" He stammered out, unsure of how to continue. Luckily though, his conversational partner understood what was going on.

"Oh! Oh, jeez, I'm sorry mate." Ciaran said in response. "That was crass of me."

"No, it's all right. You didn't know."

"Heh." The Briton chuckled. "Euphemia said the same thing when I brought up her older brother."

"Euphie… said that?" Suzaku said quietly. Was she talking about Lelouch? No, it had to be Clovis. But would it be too surprising that she would talk about the pair as if they were dead? That's what they had been told after all-

"Euphie?" The Briton's questioning voice cut in to Suzaku's thoughts, causing the young man to look up.

"Huh?"

"Who's Euphie?" Ciaran asked, looking genuinely confused.

"Uh… Princess Euphemia." Suzaku replied disbelievingly. Wasn't this man a member of the Royal Guard for both Princesses? So he should know her nickname.

"Heh." The man chuckled, reaching up and scratching at the facial hair on his left cheek with a small smile on his name. "I know that Cornelia called her that. But I didn't think that anyone else was allowed to call her that."

That made sense, Suzaku thought to himself as he took another swig from his bottle, grimacing once again at the taste.

"Wait." Ciaran asked, looking confused. "Why are you allowed to call the Third Princess by her nickname?"

His eyes flitting around in confusion, Suzaku responded. "She… she asked me to call her it."

His mouth open in confusion, the Briton spoke in confusion. "When… when did you meet Euphemia?"

"It was a day or two after Zero revealed himself and my trial." Sheepishly, he continued speaking. "We kind of… literally bumped in to each other."

"Trial?"

Suzaku could not help the look of confusion of his own that came to his face as he looked at Ciaran's face.

"You really don't know?" He asked.

"Suzaku." The older man said, sounding like a teacher talking to a student as he leant forward. "I am _seriously_ out of a loop on so many things that have happened. Especially to you. So, what was this trial?"

"I… I was framed as the person who killed Prince Clovis. I was framed by the Purists." Suzaku said nonchalantly, like it happened every day.

"The Purists, eh? Well then… I'll have to talk to Villetta about that…" The Briton said in annoyance, looking off in to the distance before turning to look at Suzaku with a small smile. "So… Shall we just skip the talk about parents then?"

"Uh, no, it's fine." The Japanese teen replied, the act of responding to his seniors and superiors too well ingrained in him to say no. "Well, my… my father was the Prime Minister of Japan before the war."

Across from him, the Briton merely looked at him in surprise, blinking his eyes, as he took in that information. "That's… that is surprising, if you don't mind me saying. Although now that I think about it, not much is said about him. What's his name?"

"Genbu. Genbu Kururugi." Suzaku replied in a melancholy tone. "He killed himself before the Britannians finished invading Japan."

'How long am I going to have to keep telling that lie?' He asked himself as he remembered _that_ night, no matter how much he wished he couldn't.

"Ah." Ciaran simply said. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but… your mum?"

"She… she died giving birth to me." Suzaku said, a little bit more sure of himself with this topic but still uncomfortable about the whole thing.

The man in front of him didn't say anything in reply, merely shifting his look down to the bottle in his hands. Taking a grip on the body of the bottle, he brought it up to his mouth and took a swig before swallowing it.

"This is the complete opposite of how it went with Euphemia." Ciaran admitted, putting his bottle back down and a guilty smile on his face.

Not even thinking, Suzaku began chuckling at the response, slapping his left hand gently on to the table. Across from him, the Briton began chuckling along with him, the sound quickly filling the space of the empty officer's mess.

Taking another drink from his bottle, Ciaran looked at the teen across from him again as he spoke. "But still, that brings up another question: what's the son of the former Prime Minister doing fighting for the very people who subjugated his people to the rule of a foreign power?"

Letting this thumbs play against the neck of the bottle in his hands, Suzaku thought long and hard on the question, trying to come up with the answer.

"Before Britannian invaded, my friend Lelouch and his sister, Nunnally, lived with me and my father for a time. But… when the invasion happened, we got separated and I never heard from them for seven years. To be honest, I got in to the military because I hoped that I could do anything to find them."

"Seven years?" Ciaran said in awe. "That must have been difficult in no small way. Did you find them?"

Nodding his head, the Japanese teen continued. "Yeah, I found them at Ashford Academy, believe it or not. It wasn't too long before I met you, actually."

"Oh, that's good."

"It was. But it was during that time that I found another reason for joining the military. You've seen the ghettoes, haven't you, Ciaran?" He asked, looking up at the man in front of him.

"Yes. I have." The Briton replied morosely.

"So, you know how much the Japanese are suffering, right?" The teen asked, getting in to it now. "Not just them, so many people in the Empire are suffering. I know that the Empire is not perfect, and I know that there are problems higher up in the chain of power, but… but I want to help them. I want to be able to help those people the only way I know how."

That had piqued Ciaran's interest, the man leaning forward and resting his hands on top of the bottle before putting his chin on top of them. "And how do you plan to do that?"

Taking a breath, Suzaku prepared to reveal something that he never thought he'd be revealing to a member of the military, let alone a Royal Guardsman.

"I want to work my way up the ranks." He said flatly, fixing his eyes on to Ciaran. "To work my up to the highest ranks that I can in Britannia, and to work to change this Empire for the better. For everyone. Japanese, Britannians. Everyone."

Across from him, the Briton merely stared at him blankly for a few seconds before a small smile came to his face. "So, you're an idealist. Praise be."

A smile of his own came to Suzaku's face at Ciaran's words. But the fell quickly as the man continued speaking.

"Although I really think you should probably think that plan through more carefully."

Suzaku looked at the man across from him with a dumbstruck look on his face. "I know that, Ciaran, but Britannia rewards those-"

"Suzaku." The Briton said bluntly. "Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to get Cornelia to agree to letting Honorary Britannians serve in the same unit as Britannians?"

The dark-haired teen shook his head.

"It took her _slapping me_ , _hard_ , and a butt load of sympathy for me to get her to come around."

Suzaku's mouth dropped slightly at that revelation. "She… she slapped you?"

"Yes, she did." Ciaran stated bluntly. "So, if that's the level that I need to go to get two platoons of men, what lengths are you willing to go to, to accomplish your goal?"

That question stopped Suzaku's train of thoughts right there.

"What do you mean?"

Taking a small sip from his bottle, the man across from him looked him straight in the eyes, the Briton's blue-green eyes clashing with Suzaku's green eyes.

"Like, what in your mind is the line between right and wrong? What line are you willing to cross to reach your goal?"

Truthfully, Suzaku couldn't really believe the question that he was asked.

"I don't get what you mean. When you gain results the wrong way, what are you left with in the end?"

"But what to you is the wrong way?" Ciaran asked bluntly, looking directly at the young man across from him. "That's what I'm asking you, Suzaku."

"If you're asking if I'd do something illegal to reach my goal," Suzaku responded bitterly. "Then I'd have to say no."

"But your right way will invariably be someone else's wrong way. It's all a matter of perspective." The Briton said calmly. "Zero's told the Japanese people that the only way to get their freedom is through violence. You'll need to do something that makes your way of doing things different to both the Britannians AND the Black Knights. But not everyone will accept you for that. Can you live with that?"

It was no lie that Suzaku had thought long and hard on this very question. He knew that he could never forgive himself for what he had done to his father, but if he fought hard for Britannia and the Japanese people, then he could wash away the stain of his life. At least partially.

"If I succeed, then how I am viewed will be pointless." He said plainly. "Besides, individual emotions are the reason why we're in the trouble we're in right now."

Across from him, the Briton shrugged his shoulders. "Can't really fault that logic. But I feel I have to point out: it's because of your emotions as an individual that led you to your idea."

Silence filled the room as Suzaku took in what Ciaran had said before he lowered his head to look at the bottle in front of him.

Seeing the forlorn look on the young man's face, the Briton spoke up again. "Changing the subject: how's school going for you?"

The young man opened his mouth to speak but the shrill sound of a telephone ringing filled the air, going for a couple of rings before the man behind the bar picked up the phone.

"Officer's mess." He said gruffly before he perked up and listening to the voice on the other end of the line. "Warrant-officer Kururugi, you say?"

"Oh that's me!" Suzaku said, holding up one of his hands, making the barman look at him before he turned his attention back to the phone.

"Yeah, he's here, major. All right, I'll tell him. Goodbye." The man said before setting the phone back on to it's receiver and turning to look at the teen. "Major Croomy needs you to return to the hangar ASAP. They're getting ready to leave."

"Oh!" Suzaku said in amazement. He had completely lost track of time. "Were we away for that long?"

"Well, it is a big place." Ciaran said in reply as he moved to stand up from his seat. "Do you want me to walk you back to the elevator?"

The dark-haired teen shook his head. "No, it's all right. I remember the way, so it's fine. Just... thank you for the drink."

The Briton nodded his head as he smiled. "You're welcome. And I'll see you again sometime. Hopefully outside of combat."

Suzaku wanted to chuckle at the remark, but the man's words were still going through his head. So instead he just politely nodded his head, like his father had taught him to do before he turned away and headed to the door, opening and closing it without a word as he moved in to the hallway, quickly shifting in to a jog as he headed to his left.

* * *

Watching Suzaku close the door behind him, Ciaran slumped back in his seat and let out a weary sigh.

"What's happening to me?" He said softly to himself. "I'm sitting in a bar drinking in the middle of the day and I've basically told a teenager why his idea is shit. God, I'm getting old before my time."

Reaching forward, he picked up his bottle and gave it a small swirl, seeing how much cider was still in it.

About half full.

Setting it back down, he leaned over the table and picked up Suzaku's now discarded bottle to see how much was in it.

Just below the bottleneck.

"Ah, that's a waste." He mumbled unhappily. "Teenagers…"

That seemed to be a continuous fact that connected universe together: teenagers think that the world can be seen purely as black and white. It was simple, it was easy, it was fucking annoying.

The idea that there was always a 'good' way and a 'bad' way was so fucking irritating, especially when life finally hit you with the truth that there was no true 'good' way. Just that you 'good' way was just a little worse than you 'bad' way.

Suzaku and Kallen seemed to be the quintessential examples: both were so dead set in their own views that they were incapable of seeing either side as having any people. The get around the potential problems their actions could cause, they had to disconnect their enemy from humanity. They had to see their opponents as the faceless, the inhuman.

That wasn't to say that he didn't understand that way of thinking. Ciaran knew that he was guilty of doing the same thing. Like in the forests of Yamanashi. When he shot those people, he didn't view them as people. He just saw them as targets to shoot, although that was more for practical reasons against any ideological reason: if he didn't kill them, they'd try and kill him.

It would be a hell of a jolt to their system when they realise the truth and it could seriously hit them hard.

The sound of the door to the officer's mess opening drew him out of his thoughts as he moved his head upright and he saw Villetta, still dressed in her helicopter pilot suit, standing in the threshold of the door, looking decidedly miffed.

"There you are." She huffed out as she walked in to the room, closing the door behind her, coming over where Ciaran was sitting. "I've been wandering all over the damn place looking for you."

"Really?" The Briton asked in confusion as he checked his watch. "I've only been gone for… fifteen minutes."

That deflated any anger in the tawny-skinned noblewoman at the revelation. "All right, so I was looking for you all over the hangar before I found out you were here. But I really need to talk to you. Have you been drinking?"

"Just a little bit." Ciaran replied, holding up his bottle and swilling it around a little bit. "The other bottle isn't mine though."

Reaching over, Villetta picked up the second bottle and lifted it up. "Yes. I heard that you were here with Kururugi."

"Yes, I was." He said simply. "What did you want, Villetta?"

Biting her lower lip, obviously unsure about how to continue before she decided to simply sit down.

"Why did you tell anyone about the Princess' plan to integrate Honorary Britannians in to our unit?" She asked.

"It wasn't her plan. It was mine." Ciaran said in reply, his face impassive as he watched the golden eyes of the noblewoman across from him opened wide in shock.

"You… you what?!" She snapped in alarm. "Why would you do that?"

Crossing his hands over the other, the Briton leaned forward in his seat. "Villetta. This is not a conventional war. I have made this abundantly clear. We cannot win this war by force of arms alone. Counter-insurgency wars are propaganda wars, first and foremost."

For a few seconds, Villetta continued looking at him in confusion before realization clicked in her mind.

"And if we have Elevens in our ranks, then that sends a message to the others that we're fighting _with_ them, not against them."

Ciaran couldn't help the smile that came to his face as his second-in-command clicked on to what he was telling her. "There you go."

The smile on his own face as a look of betrayal came to Villetta's face. "But why wasn't I told about this? Do you not trust me or something?"

The young man couldn't deny that accusation stung quite a bit. She was his junior officer, so it was understandable that he should tell her about his plans.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Ciaran said earnestly. "But… given your history and from what Kururugi told me, I couldn't be sure of what your reaction would be."

"Okay, I guess I deserved that." Villetta said forlornly, shrugging her shoulders gently before she reached over gingerly and took the bottle of cider in her hand. "So, what did he tell you?"

"Just that you framed him for the murder of Prince Clovis." Ciaran said, taking his own bottle in to his hands.

After a few seconds, Villetta looked up at the man across from him with a guilty little grin. "Yeah… kind of. Well… it wasn't technically framing. We only had some very basic facts: Clovis was murdered during an operation against Elevens, the son of the former prime minister was part of the task force and his gun was found. Now THAT bit… was really us jumping the gun, but I'm sure you can see why we did what we did?"

Bringing up his own bottle and taking a small drink before he shrugged simply. "I can see the logic. But I have to ask: did you let him testify against his charges?"

The woman across from him opened her mouth to speak before she slowly closed it followed by quickly bringing her drink up to her lips and taking a big swig from the bottle.

"Yeah, that sounds like he was framed." Ciaran said coldly, swilling his own drink around in its glass container.

"But I'm past that!" Villetta said loudly, earnestly and adamantly. "You know that, Ciaran. Hell, the fact that I'm even working with you says it all. So why can't you trust me?"

If that was anything, that was another slap in Ciaran's face. She was right. To even willingly work under his command, a Britannian serving under a Briton, it said something about her character.

"You're right. I should have told you when I came up with the idea." He said flatly, feeling ashamed at himself. "I'm sorry."

The corners of Villetta's lips twisted up in to a small but sincere smile. "Apology accepted."

Suddenly, the memory of how he had yelled at her two days before flared up in Ciaran's mind, causing his head to snap up. "And, I also want to apologise for how I acted the day before yesterday. That wasn't how a captain should act to his junior officers."

"You don't have to apologise for that, Ciaran." Villetta said simply, taking the young man by surprise.

"Huh?"

"You're young. Usually captains are a couple of years older than you are, even with purchased commissions." She explained. "I mean, you're good, but you're not that good. Plus, I think that being away from your lover won't do wonders for you."

"Huh?"

"Come on. I wasn't blind." She said warmly. "I saw how happy Dorothea makes you. Having her so far away must make you feel quite bad."

Ciaran let out a gentle sigh. "I try not to think about her. But when I do, it makes me depressed."

"And depression mixed with adrenaline really does not do well for your mental state." Villetta said knowingly. "Give her a call. It'll be good for you."

Turning up the corner of his lips, Ciaran smiled up at her. "I'll do that when I can. So, does that mean-"

"That means we're fine, Ciaran." Villetta said simply, taking another drink from the bottle in her hand. "But I will say that you might need to learn to control your emotions a bit better."

Leaning backwards in his seat, the Briton let out a low chuckle. "Yeah, my parents used to say the same thing. And my teachers."

"Yes, and now your second-in-command says so too." The tawny-skinned noblewoman said, grinning happily at him. "So, what's the plan for using these Elevens?"

"Well, we'll be splitting and reorganizing the platoons so that there's several Honorary Britannians in each platoon." The dark-haired man responded, holding up a finger to punctuate his point. "We'll bring them up to speed with the purpose of our battalion, train them up, then we'll start fully sorting out the problems we've got."

"Problems?" Villetta asked in confusion.

"It's nothing with your aviators." Ciaran said calmly, shaking his head. "Although in broad terms, it does involve your lot."

"So, what's the plan then?" The woman asked intently, pushing her bottle aside to lean forward.

"Until the rest of the reinforcements arrive from Britannia," Ciaran responded. "We'll be stuck operating in Yamanashi province. When the forces are brought up to strength, Cornelia's turning us loose. We'll reconnoitre suitable areas for forward operating bases to be established, then we'll move out in to the countryside as a full battalion accompanied by a company or two of engineers. Then we'll basically do the same thing we've been doing from there."

"So apart from our makeup, nothing changes, correct?" Villetta asked.

"Exactly. Although I'd prefer it if we had more gunships and crews to deal with the extra men."

"Well, there's always next time." The noblewoman responded with a smile, which Ciaran returned.

Taking his bottle in his hand, the Briton held up the bottle in a toast. "Until next time."

The sound of glass gently striking glass filled the space of the officer's mess as Villetta responded to the toast.

* * *

 **AN: I cannot apologise enough for not posting a chapter up in January. I really cannot. It's just that things HORRENDOUSLY went downhill for me after the New Year. My job contract with work finished, and there was literally no change of being kept on long-term and my manager's attempts at trying to get me a job with another store closer to where I live didn't pan through. I also had serious trouble trying to get back on job seekers (which at the time of writing I've still heard nothing about). Then I ran in to prospect that I might end up facing debt collectors, over a fucking book subscription which I was 100% certain I had filled out (although that's all sorted out now) and just the general lack of a job... ugh. I tell you, I swear I'm cursed with shitty luck at the start of the year, and it just seems to keep getting worse and worse for me.**

 **And this chapter! Gah! This chapter was so fucking hard for me to write! Ugh, 42 pages long. Still that's nearly two months worth of work, right?**

 **First things first: military matters. Looking back over previous chapters, I have fully realised that I have not really been consistent with the description of the size of 332 Battalion. Now, even though they are called a battalion, they are only a company, which in the British army, is made up of three companies and a HQ section. In the Code Geass universe, I've taken some liberties with the size by having a platoon be made up of 24 men. So 3 platoons of 24 is 72 men. Include in the six Valkyrs (and it should be six. I don't know why I originally wrote in 5!), with two pilots each and one crew chief, that's 90 bodies. Now if we add in the two platoons worth of Honorary Britannians, that's two extra 48 men, so that brings the size of 332 Battalion up to 138 men. And since I'm using the British Army's structure, then the armoured battalions of Knightmares are made up of three squadrons each made up of 18 Knightmares, and an infantry battalion is made up of 650 men. So yeah. Shit's going to get serious with those numbers. Also the names are... well, kind of self-explanatory since I'm using the British Army as the base for the Britannian Army's structure. And this also means that I'm going to have to give earlier chapters a going over and sorting them out.**

 **Secondly: the racism. I cannot write racism. It's hard. I'm not a... I won't say I'm perfect, but I'm more judgmental than racist (that'll come up in a second bit so I'll explain there), so Cornelia's reason for refusing to include Honorary Britannians was hard to write. Until I looked up some reasons for why nations like South Africa didn't let blacks in to their army during Apartheid. And then that helped me out for another part (and major props go to my best friend for helping me out with this bit): there is literally ZERO CHANCE of Britannia as an entity being able to exist as it did in the anime if it had a purely segregated military, keeping non-Britannians away from front-line duties. Between police actions, insurgent hunting and major conflicts, it would be impossible for the territories that the Empire controlled to effectively keep up a military presence in the newly raised areas without having non-Britannians pick up some of the slack. If you want examples effectively using native populations in conquered territories alongside their own troops, simply look at the Roman and British Empires, especially the Martial Races theory.**

 **Thirdly: Suzaku. He's not a character I like. I will say that pure and simple. Especially after knowing everything I know about him from both series', it's almost impossible for me to like him. So I TRIED my best to write him slightly more sympathetically in this chapter than how I wanted to. That's all I can say.**

 **And fourthly: I play video games when I'm stressed. I think that's a product of my generation and probably all of my readers can sympathize with that. And also, Grand Theft Auto V is fucking addictive.**

 **Not much else to say on this. Hopefully I can get back on track with this now. Hopefully.**

 **So again, read, enjoy review. Help is still need with the story's TVTropes page and the fanon wiki page, so any help with that would be much appreciated. It would go some small way to make me feel a bit better. Although some good reviews might do that job too. Hehe.**

 **Anyway... see you all next time. Toodles.**


	30. Hiatus

Hello everyone. Hope you're doing well.

Umm... yeah, there's not been an update for chapter 30, and for that, I do apologise. I got a new job at the beginning of March at a new store that opened a good few miles from my home. It's not much, just a simple retail job.

But this job is just... it's doing nothing for my creativity. I have TRIED so hard to write this chapter, heck, I've even tried writing scenes from chapters far in the story-line's future and even trying to rewrite previous chapters. But nothing is working for me. Between working long hours, finishing late and doing some REALLY banal work, my creativity is almost practically dead. And I don't want to half-ass these chapters coming up since they really are (not to create any spoilers) probably the most important chapters in this part of the story.

I do apologise, profusely, for all of you who have waited so long and patiently for the next chapter. I am working as hard as I can on these chapters but... really, I've said it all above, I'm afraid.

So Code Geass - A Brave New World is on a temporary hiatus until my writing mojo comes back. Please continue to be patient with me, guys.


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